


Chaos Theory: Phase One

by aimless38, Loki_Doki



Series: Chaos Theory [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, M/M, Male Slash, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Thor, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 256,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimless38/pseuds/aimless38, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Doki/pseuds/Loki_Doki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several months after the Battle of New York, Thor and Loki seek temporary asylum at Stark’s Tower. When Tony realizes that Loki is still being tortured, ghosts from his past prompt him to try to fix the matter himself. Now, with Tony poisoned and slowly dying, Loki must find a way to save him in order to begin to redeem himself in the Allfather’s eyes. Tony also discovers that Fury has been hiding Coulson, who is still under the influence of the Tesseract, but Barton wants him back. Romanoff and Rogers help retrieve Coulson, and in return, they are awarded information about their past in the form of the Winter Soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborative work of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended. It is for our amusement only. Set after the Avengers in the MCU but is not IM 3, Thor 2 or Winter Soldier compliant. AU according to our imagination.

Chaos Theory

 

“Thor," Nick Fury stated. "Everything went to hell when that blond Asgardian showed up in America’s backyard and his prick of a little brother followed. They didn’t think about how their appearance would upend the general public’s psyche and send the world into hysteria. They just wanted to beat the shit out of each other. Earth just happened to be where they landed. Why couldn't it have been some other planet?

"You told me nothing would ever be the same. We were all thinking it. You were just the one who said it out loud. The governments of the world have known of the existence of aliens for thousands of years. The pharaohs even drew pretty pictures of them on their walls." Fury lectured with a sweep of his hand against the blank wall of the SHIELD medical ward. "The Powers That Be have called it "science fiction."  They poo-pooed the Nordics their ancient history and made the Egyptian hieroglyphs nothing more than scintillating mystery.  We’ve managed to dupe the population for centuries. I think it was better that way. I know you do too," he nodded, eyeing the man laying on the hospital bed.

"You should see it now, Coulson.  Everyone’s lost their muthafuckin' minds. Cults have sprung up like weeds in the summer.  Suicide has become a pandemic, and you can find a raving evangelist on every traffic island spouting the end is here. Nobody can really tell them anything different with real assurance.

"And they all say its epicenter is Tony Stark’s Tower in the heart of New York City.

"You know I never liked Howard’s kid. Never bought into his bullshit. You convinced me we needed him and told me I didn’t have to like him. I admit, I respect what he did a few months ago during the battle with the Chitauri.  He surprised a lot of people.  Surprised me.  Did he surprise you?" he asked, waiting for an answer that didn't come.

"I don’t envy Stark the backlash that has followed. There are assassination plots against him everyday, attempts every week. They’re calling him the antichrist. I maintain he’s just a cocky asshat with too much intelligence an overabundance of swagger."

Fury paced the room, hands clasped behind his back.

"Going through that portal changed him, made him nervous, more reclusive than he was before the Battle of New York. I'll let you dig your teeth into that. Just leave the psych report on my desk," he said with a wry smile.

"You’ll be glad to know that we’ve managed to stop anyone from popping off any rounds in his lily white ass," he said. "There have been days when I ask myself why I’m defending the class clown, but I think between Stark and Rogers and the influence they have with the others, this Avengers Initiative just might work out.  I trust him about as much as he trusts me, but we gotta make it work, as you say.

"This codependency thing very well may be the death of me." Fury exhaled loudly and stood at the end of the hospital bed, leaning his forearms on the footboard. "Don't think you're getting out of this. You are still assigned as the Avengers' handler.  So wake the fuck up," he demanded.

Fury stared at Phil Coulson, memories of battles won and lost with the man at his back. “I'm not buying into this whole coma bullshit anymore. Doc says he sewed you up, put you back together, you should be awake right now. But you're not.  So whatever magic mumbo jumbo is making your eyes glow in the dark like some freaky cosmic night light, tell it to fuck off. I need my one good eye back."

~*~

Twenty nine days, thirteen hours, eleven minutes and thirty four seconds since Pepper walked into Tony’s lab and said that she just couldn't do it anymore, that she wasn't strong enough to watch him risk his life over and over and have a relationship too.

He should have known the end was coming. But Tony chose to ignore the strained silences, the increased amount of business trips and Pepper more often than not curling up on the sofa instead of sleeping in their empty bed.  

The hurt look on her face nearly ripped Tony to shreds. Worse was the fact that he put it there. Tony usually ended up disappointing everyone who cared about him eventually. So he guessed it really came as no surprise that Pepper bailed.

Tony got the 'let's still be friends speech.' Wasn't that awkward?

Pepper also stammered out a hasty, "If he wanted her to resign from Stark Industries, she'd understand." The thought of removing her completely from Tony’s life scared the shit out of him. He could not reassure her fast enough that there was no way in hell that he'd ever let her resign. She'd signed contracts and everything. Plus a lawsuit would make everyone uncomfortable. She even laughed a little at that line.

Hell, Pepper was a better CEO than Tony could ever be. He was made for PR stunts and was way more comfortable working in research and development. At least that way, Tony could keep his own hours.

Then she somewhat tearfully announced that she'd be moving her things out of the large penthouse suite they shared. With one final hug, she was gone. Tony didn't bother to follow her out. He simply cranked up some Black Sabbath and lost himself in some modifications on the suit which had been badly damaged in the attack on New York.

Now, Tony spent his days in his workshop, making sure they would all be protected. Exhaustion was his constant companion as he created. Most of the time, Tony didn’t even know what day it was.

After endless cups of coffee and almost scorching himself for the third time on the acetylene torch, Tony decided to give up for the night. Well really after JARVIS threatened to let Dummy get the fire extinguisher.

Tony could not bear the thought of going back to what was once their rooms and their bed, which was why at two o'clock in the morning, he was wandering the floors of the currently under-construction Stark Tower. He had a cut crystal glass of Dalmore single malt in his hand and Dummy trailing him with the bottle clutched in his servo claw.

The building was eerily quiet since all the crews had gone home for the weekend. The tower was understandably mostly vacant during the reconstruction, and Tony found the stillness fit his bleak mood. The only other signs of life were the Stark Industries security team that kept the ground levels secure. After the events of the invasion, his tower had become very popular with thrill seekers and fans. It was easy to avoid anyone else, since they were not allowed on his private floors or on the ten R&D levels. He preferred that no one be here, but Pepper insisted on the extra security.

"Jarvis how long before the renovations are complete?" Tony spoke just to break the silence.

"Sir, estimated time, factoring in all the variables, puts the renovation completion at approximately two months," the slightly British sounding AI replied.

Tony sighed and stared at the exposed beams and newly painted walls. The only parts of the building that were finished were his workshops and the penthouse levels. Once completed, the lower floors would house VIP suites, conference rooms, and various R&D divisions of Stark Industries. They would contain projects that would need his direct input. As for the rest? Who the fuck knew.

Pepper called this place a monument to his vanity. It almost became the epicenter for the destruction of the planet.

The billionaire wanted to know who he royally pissed off in a former life. Or perhaps he'd racked up enough bad karma in this one to fuck himself five times over.

Tony absently raised his almost empty glass and smiled when Dummy carefully filled it. He took a moment to pet his sensor array making him chirp happily.

"Good boy," he complimented, because really, Dummy was, despite the fact that the work crew found him creepy.

A few more glasses and Tony was feeling more than a bit fuzzy. He should know better. He could almost feel Rhodey's disapproving frown and hear the lecture Tony knew he'd get if he was here.

Tony really wished he was. Or someone, because being alone and drunk really fucking sucked. Tony didn't have the energy though to go out now. Barely a few years ago, he'd be out partying hard with a socialite on each arm.

Tony hissed in pain as he nearly tripped over some rolls of carpeting stacked against one of the walls. Even months after the battle, his wounds were slow to heal. Bone deep bruises and cracked ribs along with torn muscles made him ache fiercely.

First of all, getting tossed out of a window made of thick safety glass really fucking hurt. That coupled with the beating he’d already taken when the helicarrier was attacked, then the battle in the streets of Manhattan, it was a wonder Tony could even walk at all.

He was sure that facilitated Pepper's decision to leave. The first time she got the full monty of his battered body, tears welled in her eyes. Tony remembered her hand hovering just above the livid welts and contusions, afraid to touch.

She just didn't understand the burning desire he still had to atone for his checkered past, the adrenaline rush Tony got from being in the armor, the ability to be able to actually help people instead of hurt them.

Tony held his glass out again and noticed it remained empty. Dummy chirped distressingly and clutched the now empty bottle.

"Well now. I guess we ought to find another." He pretended not to notice how his words slurred.

"Sir, perhaps that would not be wise. You've eaten nothing all day. You should get some sleep." JARVIS chimed in.

"Damn mother hen." He turned towards the bank of elevators and staggered when a wave of dizziness had him clutching the wall.

Shit. Maybe he ought to lie down. The only place that sounded appealing was the large battered sofa in his workshop.

Tony made his way carefully to the elevators and reached out to hit the button.

It took a few tries because really, how was he supposed to hit it the first time when there were three of them dancing in his vision. Tony leaned against the elevator wall and closed his eyes.

Truly he hadn't been this shitfaced in a while. When the car stopped and the doors opened, it took him a minute to lever himself away from the wall and stagger out the door.

Tony paused at the entry into his lab and squinted at the keypad. This was the one thing that he could do even with his eyes shut. In fact, it was easier that way. A second later and the door whooshed open.

Tony finally felt able to take a deep breath. This was home to him, more so than the penthouse suite or the currently empty mansion on Fifth Avenue. It had been Tony’s parents house, and he never really felt comfortable there.

Tony thought he had a floor in Trump Towers too. He'd bought it just to piss old Don off. Really, the man couldn't stand him, and the feeling was mutual. At least Tony figured he still owned it. he'd have to ask Pepper.  Oh right, like that was going to happen any time soon.

Even more depressed now, sleep seemed like a great idea. Tony flung himself in the general vicinity of the large couch that was shoved against the wall. Wide and overstuffed, it was slightly beat up and a bit stained. Not that he cared. Tony landed face down. Right before he passed out, he felt the fleecy throw from the back being carefully draped over him.

"Thanks buddy." Tony murmured to Dummy then he was out like a light.

~*~

Clint Barton, sometimes known Hawkeye, lay in his bunk staring up at the ceiling of his small room aboard the Helicarrier. He was pretty much confined to quarters until his SHIELD psych eval was complete. The vultures working for SHIELD took a fiendish kind of glee in picking his brain apart. After all, how often did they get a formerly mind-controlled lackey of a god in their evil clutches?

It was different when he was off saving the world. His skills were needed but now? This version of house arrest was going to drive him nuts. Left here with nothing really to do, Clint couldn't help thinking of the things he'd done while under Loki's influence. Oh sure, he told the headshrinkers he didn't remember a thing. But he and Natasha knew better. In fact, it was Nat that told him not to blame himself. Clint didn't think how he could help but blame himself.

And that was the kicker. Agent Phil Coulson, his handler and the first person to believe he was worth the effort, was dead. The man who recruited him when Clint was nothing more than a thief. Phil gave him a reason to try and work within the system.

Clint's eyes narrowed as his head started to pound.

Fucking Loki...what the hell chance did Phil have going up against a bat shit crazy god with delusions of grandeur? A situation that Clint helped facilitate. He knew Natasha had been holding something back when she was sitting in the med bay with him after kicking his ass before the battle of New York. It was something he'd be forever grateful for, because it got that bastard out of his head. Hopefully for good.

Still, it pissed Clint off that no one thought to fucking tell him Phil was dead until after the fight, after Manhattan was in shambles and they wearily made their way to one of the SHIELD detachments. It was then, as they were getting patched up, that Natasha quietly informed Clint what happened, how it happened and how it brought the team together. Well fuck that....it was not worth the life of someone he held dear.

So when the team got dragged by Stark to the obligatory shawarma celebration, he’d been exhausted, in pain, and frozen with grief.

Only Natasha had managed to wring a smile out of Clint on the day they sent Loki home. By whispering in Clint’s ear, in exquisite detail, what she would do to the God if given the chance. After that, the archer had been isolated and picked apart until he wanted to scream.

God, he had to get out of here. His quarters felt too much like a prison. Clint could feel the walls closing in on him. Due to his penchant for late night exploration and his need to find places to be alone, Clint knew the layout of the Helicarrier better than Fury did. That thought made Clint's gut twist. He'd been perfect for Loki's purposes. But that knowledge was invaluable now. Clint knew where most of the cameras were and their blind spots.

So within moments Clint disappeared into the ductwork and then deep into the bowels of the ship. There, he could be alone with his dark thoughts and decide what he wanted to do with his future, since it was unlikely SHIELD would ever trust him again.

~*~

If one more person asked Clint how he felt, he was seriously going to put an arrow in their eye. They felt entitled to his thoughts, just because they had some fancy degree in a dark wood frame hanging on their wall.

How the fuck did they think he felt? Remorseful, helpless, guilty? God, yes. So much guilt and all of the above.

He wondered why bother telling them. He was being grilled by high-security clearance shrink while he lay on an expensive leather sofa in a tastefully decorated office. It was at a non-nondescript location in a SHIELD facility somewhere. Clint had been escorted to this appointment, led right to the door and ushered inside. His current bodyguards waited unobtrusively right outside. Thank god he didn't know these two agents.

It was a scheduled visit right after yet another CT scan of his messed up head.

The only bonus to this situation was he got off the Helicarrier for a while and away from the constant reminder of what he'd done.

Clint didn't want to talk about his feelings, or the nightmares that plagued his restless nights, or when he finally got up the courage to visit the place Phil died. Of how he sat on the floor against the wall with his forehead resting on his drawn up knees, too numb to even howl out his pain. It was his fault Loki even got onto the carrier in the first place, due to his ever so 'helpful' intel.

He should have been there to back Phil up, just like the times his handler had been there for him.

Clint stayed at that spot until found by Natasha. She'd poked and prodded him until he roused. Then she led him back to her quarters and produced three bottles of vodka. There they got sloppily drunk toasting the man that had changed both their lives.

It was a much better send off for Agent Phil Coulson than SHIELD saw fit to give him.

So Clint bullshitted his way through another session with the shrink. He sat up on the couch and watched as the doctor left the room.

His rebellious side surfaced as Clint glanced at the partially open French doors leading to a small balcony.

 _Fuck this shit, I am out of here,_ Clint said to himself. He went out onto the small terrace. It didn't matter that it was ten stories up. He simply hopped up onto the railing and quickly surveyed his surroundings. He looked around with a grin. There were a succession of similar balconies all the way down to the second floor.

So without a backward glance Clint swung over the edge and was gone.

~*~

For the first time in weeks Clint felt like he could finally breathe. With every mile, he got further away from all the reminders of the invasion, from all the poking, prodding and incessant questions, from having his mind taken apart from the inside out. _Being remade_ , he called it, in someone else’s image. To not be in control of your actions was worse than rape, in Clint’s opinion. But that’s the definition of rape isn’t it? To not have control. To have someone else’s control forced on you.

He knew it was going to take some time to get his shit together. It wasn’t something he could do under the ever watchful eye of SHIELD.

Clint knew he needed to go where he was just another face. Not an agent, assassin, sniper or fucking hero. He felt as far away from being a hero as you could get. Captain America was the hero, not the former carnie thief turned lap dog for SHIELD. The fact that the Captain trusted him enough to help end the invasion plainly fucking amazed him. That Clint got a clap on the back and a hearty handshake for a job well done afterward. The Captain’s sincere thanks stunned him even more.

But now, he needed a place to settle, to try and lose the fragmented feeling he could not seem to shake, to be able to grieve properly and in his own way without someone telling him what he should do or how he should feel.

Clint had just the place in mind.

It hadn’t been that hard to get away, really. It was easy climb down the balconies to the last one, then a drop to the ground that Clint accomplished with ease. Finally, he got lost in the crowd as he made his way to a vehicle he had stashed for just an occasion.

Clint and Natasha were alike in the respect to have a need for their own bolt holes. Necessary pieces of their lives that had nothing to do with SHIELD. Clint only knew where a few of Natasha’s were located. She preferred it that way.

But the one Clint headed to now was one that Nat knew about and had been to many times. It was a place relatively new to their handler. In fact, Phil had been rather surprised at Clint’s choice of a safe haven.

Phil… God, it still fucking hurt, like a raw wound Clint could not stop poking at.

Clint needed to go to his haven. It was the last place Nat and Phil and he had been happy and relaxed.

~*~

Clint relished the wind in his face as the bike he straddled ate up the miles to his destination. It was a motorcycle that was his alone and not one that SHIELD was aware he owned.  It was used, paid for in cash, and kept stashed in a rented storage space until needed. The bike was slightly beat up looking and well broken in, but impeccably maintained. It got Clint where he needed to go.

Clint didn’t even mind the light drizzle that started to fall as he sped along the highway. Finally at his destination as the day grew dim with the falling dusk, Clint maneuvered the bike down an alley behind the building. He parked it in a dingy shed after unlocking the door with a key from his key ring.

Then he walked to another door in the building itself. He unlocked that one too with yet another key and took the narrow steps upstairs two at a time. He ended up in a hallway that led to a compact apartment.

Clint turned on a lamp and sighed, finally able to relax in the quietness of the small space. It was just a living area and a miniscule kitchenette separated by a breakfast bar. There was also a short hallway leading to a bedroom and another door to a full bath. This space was clean and almost dust-free.

Clint peeled off his leather jacket and hung it by the door to dry. He toed off his boots and left them there too. He went to the sink and opened a cabinet for a glass,  filled it with water, and took a couple of aspirin from a bottle sitting nearby. After that, he walked down the hallway and into the small bedroom. The space was mostly taken up by a queen sized bed and low dresser. He shucked off his jeans and collapsed onto the bed, weary beyond belief and thinking maybe he’d actually be able to get some sleep.

The last thing Clint did was set the alarm on his burner phone for 4 a.m. Then he lay down and let the stillness of the room wash over him.

~*~

In the past, Loki had hopped through the Nine Realms mostly by traveling the Bifrost.  The experience was always thrilling as well as dependable. And, it cost him nothing, since it’s source of power was outside his person.

The opposite of traveling Asgardian's bridge was use of dark-power portals. They were one of Loki's least favorite things in all the nine worlds and beyond. They were damp and smothering and spine-tingling painful. A person came out on the other side covered in hot sweat, disoriented, shivering and weakened.

They also gave him a terrible case of vertigo. He was usually able to counteract the effect with the utterance of a quick spell. But this time, there would be no enchantment. His lips would not move properly to form any spell and his tongue was swollen and useless.  

In place of the muzzle they'd fashioned for him before leaving Midgard, his lips had now been sewn shut with Vartari. It was a poisoned leather binding created by a cruel craftsman to humiliate and cause long-suffering. And it was doing a fine job of it.

The Allfather only added to Loki's misery by commanding Thor be the one to carry out the placement of such a malevolent contraption.  Even Fandral knew Thor was the worst with needle and thread.  It was punishment for both sons, but Loki's sentencing far outweighed the momentary grief that sewing Vartari into Loki's flesh might have caused Thor. Loki cared not for his not-brother's feelings anymore.

He hurt everywhere.  The tremors that wracked his body covered him in sweat. The excreted poison smelled like death. It made his stomach clench. Loki wanted to flee like a wounded animal caught in a trap on the verge of hysteria but he could hardly move, much less run.

At least he was no longer in the bowels of Asgard, no longer a prisoner kept by the Allfather for sins against humanity. He was no longer awaiting trial in a gloomy cell for punishment for the slaughter of countless Jotuns before he fell into the Void.

Before the Chitauri.

Before Thanos.

Before his scheme to discredit Thor and keep him off the throne of Asgard.

That seemed like an entire lifetime ago. Or maybe it was the poison distorting time in his mind.

"Brother, look at me.”

Loki opened his eyes to find Thor leaning over him. He looked terrible, worried even.  He was speaking to Loki but he didn't really care to give Thor any attention, not when the world outside his mind was such a very painful place to be.

“I will get help.  Wait for me, Loki. Do not slip away to Hel's embrace.”

Hel, Loki's beautiful daughter. Even she wouldn't have him. _Don't give in, Father._ That's what she told him in his dreams. What he heard was her refusal to accept him and end his suffering.

He rolled away from Thor onto his side and cursed the room for spinning wildly. When the world righted itself again, he wondered who was it that used such dark magic to transport them both out of Asgard. There were only a few who knew how to use it, Thor certainly not being one of them. The Allfather wouldn't sentence Loki's punishment and then release him.

He didn't even know where he was. He wanted to ask, but the poison made it hard to think. He still could not communicate properly. So he rested on the cold surface and closed his eyes, focused on breathing. There was little more he could do.

Thor's chest ached. It was too familiar a sensation. He'd felt it when he thought Loki died in the void of the cosmos. Staring down at his brother now, after coming through the dark-magic portal, he felt the same fear of loss. Loki needed help.

And so Thor asked the executor of their escape to be sent to the one place he hoped he'd find it on Midgard. His mind was set on Jane Foster's home.

Unfortunately, this was not her home. He recognized it immediately and wondered the wisdom or folly of arriving at Stark's Tower instead.

He spoke to Loki, smoothing the wet ropes of hair away from his swollen and sickly eyes. They were bloodshot and glassy, and Thor knew not what Loki's vision revealed.  Thor had felt the effects that very poison that oozed from the leather binding he'd placed in his brother's lips months ago. It seeped into his skin through his fingers when he himself had placed it into Loki's mouth, the very same mouth that had begged him for mercy, begged him to hear him out, begged him not to silence him, not until he'd had his say.

Thor had done it anyway, as was the will of the Allfather. The poison had cleared Thor's system in a day, with the help of the healers and some rest in his comfortable bed with the soothing touch of his mother. Whereas for Loki, his punishment had gone on for what must seem an eternity, agonizing in a miserable cell without any comforts known to a Prince of Asgard.

Mere months ago, they'd been happy together. Loki had stood by his side before Thor's coronation to become King, the coronation that never happened. Loki had said, "Sometimes I am envious, but never doubt that I love you."

And that's what Thor clung to. He had to believe those words weren't a lie. But nothing was as it should be. His brother betrayed him, manipulated him into starting a war with the Jotuns, told him the Allfather was dead, and then chose to die instead of face the consequences of his actions.

And when Loki didn't die, when he'd fallen into the clutches of an alien race unknown to even the Allfather, Loki must have undergone unimaginable trauma. The brother he'd faced on Midgard was not the brother he knew at all.

"Master Jarvis?" Thor inquired, pushing the code he'd been given to enter Stark Tower. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes. I must inform you that the Tower has been alerted to your arrival, being that you've brought with you a mortal enemy to the planet itself."

"I understand," Thor answered. He walked into the large elevator, hanging his head low as the doors hissed closed. "He is no threat to you or anyone at the moment."

"I must advise you that Loki appears to be in Ms. Romanoff's parking space. I believe she would not hesitate to park her vehicle there, regardless of the body currently occupying most of the lane."

Thor's stomach rolled, perhaps from the effects of the portal, perhaps from the stress of his escape, more likely from his mad plan to ask Loki's most recent enemy for sanctuary. That, and his brother lying helpless and exposed and likely dying at any moment. "Take me to Tony Stark."

The elevator doors parted and Thor was greeted by early morning sunlight streaming through the ceiling to floor windows of Tony's penthouse suite.

He'd been there thrice before. The first time was after Loki had nearly destroyed the top floors with the Tesseract and Chitauri. Loki's misplaced anger nearly resulted in Tony Stark's death. He'd come to Stark's steel castle twice again afterwards for conferences regarding his brother's transference back to Asgard. He knew the lay out well enough to recognize the living quarters when he stepped out of the elevator.

"Tony Stark, I come to seek audience with you on a very serious matter." Thor strode into the center of the room, his head swiveling and ears listening for a response.

After a short time, Jarvis stated, "Sir is not responding. If you wish to speak to him, you will find him in his workshop."

"Then why am I here if the Man of Iron is not?" But Thor understood well enough. It was good practice to delay any ambassador of a warring people seeking audience with the master of the house. Allowing them immediate access was unheard of, especially when preparing for a possible attack. Thor thought better of Jarvis and spoke sincerely, "Please know, I mean him no harm."

"Understood. You would gain no access here if my protocols listed you as such," Jarvis placated. "However, I believe it is necessary for you to wake sir yourself."

Thor frowned. "He not responding to your herald?"

"No, he is not."

Had Thor not been so desperate, he'd have detected a bit of annoyance from the artificial intelligence. "Is he unwell?"

"He is just… sir."

Thor entered the elevator again and hoped Jarvis would, this time, deliver him to the proper place. "Jarvis. Do your omniscient eyes see my brother?"

"Yes. He has not moved since you left him."

Thor's eyes closed in both relief and concern. "Is he still breathing?"

"Yes. Though it appears it is a struggle."

"I must hurry."

Thor exited the elevator with enthusiasm. "Where?"

"To the left down the hall. Approach the door on your right and I will grant your access."

Thor followed the instructions and found Tony Stark on a couch in a room full of mechanical beings, some of whom hovered around him. One in particular stood between them.

He attempted to reach out to Stark to shake the man awake, but the robot wouldn't allow it. An electrical current arched between its only arm and Thor's hand.

Thor laughed. "You forget yourself if you mean to harm me, little one. Electricity is also one of my weapons. You'd do better to douse me with water, though it will get you no further than my annoyance."

Still, Thor acknowledged the robot's warning. This was not his home, nor his servants. And although Thor found it odd, he still had enough manners to respect one's odd culture and one's most loyal subjects.

It was then that he could smell the strong odor of alcohol and understood the situation. Being practically raised from boy to man by Volstagg, he could recognize drunken sleep when he saw and smelled it.

This did not bode well for his purpose. Or perhaps it did. All he needed was a safe spot for Loki to rest while Thor found the right weapon to release the poison binding. Then they could be off.

He really was turning into a scoundrel. But, he was a scoundrel who was running out of time.

"Tony Stark," he said boldly, and so very loudly as only Thor, The God of Thunder could.

To say Tony didn't dream would have been an outright lie. That he didn't expect to replay the pivotal events in his life would have been another. Or at least the major fuck ups. The cave in Afghanistan, Stane pulling out his fucking heart or the blackness of the void that he ferried a nuke into all made his nightly exercises in sleep a real joy. Alcohol tended to make them worse more often than not.

Tony would have thought going from passed out drunk to violently awake and air-born to be impossible. He proved that also to be a lie after he found myself lying on the floor near the couch gasping for air in total panic mode trying to get his galloping heart to slow the fuck down.

"Jarvis! Intruder alert! What the fuck? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I mean seriously, total heart failure immanent here!" Tony grasped his chest and tried to take in a deep breath. He didn't need a panic attack…really didn't.

Laying on the floor, his head pounding and having The God of Thunder bellowing at him was not exactly a good morning. Was it morning anyway?

Tony blinked blearily up at Thor and frowned when a clawed arm obscured his vision. He focused on the item Dummy was holding. It was the box Pepper had given Tony containing his first arc reactor. She'd had it repaired and during the move to New York and Dummy refused to leave it behind. He could not have pried it out of his servo arm even if he tried. Some misguided notion that the billionaire might need it again. Proof that Tony Stark had a heart indeed.

Obviously, Dummy figured he was in dire circumstances. Truly, as much as Tony yelled at him, Dummy never failed to amaze.

"It's okay, Dummy. I'm fine. Well, hung over but fine." He then looked at the Asgardian standing over him. "Thor, what the hell? Why are you here? Now? With me? You have some weird fetish with watching me sleep?"

Thor wanted to laugh but he didn't. Stark and Volstagg had much in common, such as how they woke from their slumber, although Tony hadn't tried to lop his head off with an axe. At least not yet.

"Forgive my rather abrupt intrusion, but it was necessary," Thor said. He reached down and clasped Tony's forearm with his hand and righted the man as best he could. "I am here on an urgent matter in which I require your assistance."

"Pardon me," Jarvis interrupted, "but I wanted to warn you that Ms. Romanoff is ten blocks away. Given her lead foot, you should return to the parking garage and retrieve your... baggage… from her spot."

"Lead foot?" Thor questioned the ceiling, as if Jarvis were up there.

"That is to say, she is rather heavy on the gas pedal and will be here quickly."

"I understand." Thor nodded and focused all his attention on Tony. Stalking forward step by step as he spoke. "Tony Stark. My father, Odin, and his father before him have protected this planet for millennia, as have I, even most recently as we fought together. I would not purposely bring ruin upon your people. Please remember this when I beseech you, by the legacy of my kin, please give myself and my brother, Loki, sanctuary here at your Tower of metal and glass."

And that is when Dummy tossed a plastic Captain America cup full of water in Thor's face.

Okay. There was no way Tony could have heard that correctly. Pepper was right. He finally managed to pickle his brains. To test that theory, he quickly ran through some quantum mechanics equations. Yup. All still there. No brain damage yet.

Tony ran his hands through his hair, grimacing at the oily texture. He was sure he now resembled a particularly untidy haystack. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He counted to ten and opened them. Yup, Thor was still there with his hair and beard dripping wet.

Thor wiped his face with the palm of his hand and scowled at Dummy. He had been kidding before when he gave the machine the playful idea. But he didn't have time for censure, not when Loki's life may be hanging in the balance.

Tony blinked slowly and shook his head. How was this his life? The Gods were very cruel indeed. Seriously, Loki? The last thing Tony needed was the God of Thunder pissed at him for denying him sanctuary. He seemed to have a blind spot a mile wide for his 'adopted' brother. The billionaire was _so_ getting that story later too.

Tony had to admit to being curious though. It was a terrible failing he had and one that almost got him killed more times than he could count.

And Natasha on her way here? Oh that was one shit storm he really didn't need. She'd stab first and ask questions later. And damn, there they were, the puppy eyes from the God of Thunder.

"Thor, what the fuck? Most of the time my guests don't dump potentially dangerous, homicidal maniacs on me before breakfast. Don't look at me like that."  A labored sigh, a skipped heartbeat, and the resignation. "Fine. Get him. I can't believe you left him alone to cause more trouble. Just take him into the elevator and up to the top floor. The penthouse suite. Jarvis will show you the way."

Tony paced nervously. "Jarvis see if you can stall the fierce, redheaded, and deadly agent on her way. I don't care how you do it. Change the codes on the parking garage entrance or something. Fuck, I need another drink."

Tony scrubbed his hands over his face and let out a deep breath. He was going to get into so much trouble over this. "Dummy - aspirin, four of them and my favorite hangover remedy. I'm going to need it."

Thor almost didn't believe his ears when Tony told him to retrieve Loki and bring him into the Tower's royal suite.

"You are most gracious, my friend." He patted Tony on the back enthusiastically, nearly toppling the little human over. "Your generosity will not be forgotten."

He pointed at Dummy, "nor yours," he said with a mock scowl.

He turned to rush down the hall, a small smile of triumph curving his mouth upward, when his legs gave out. He hit the ground hard on all fours. The dark portal. Thor remembered Loki once telling him to expect odd effects shortly after using it's energy. Surely that was the reason for this embarrassing predicament. If only the room would cease spinning, he'd find his way upright again and retrieve his brother so they could rest.

Tony grabbed the hastily concocted hangover remedy and downed it with the aspirin Dummy also handed him. He only hoped the bot made it right this time. He looked up from drinking the green sludge to see Thor collapse halfway down the hallway. Shit.

Tony set the cup on a work table and hurried to his side. Now that he took a closer look the big guy did not seem to be doing so well. Were Asgardians supposed to be so pale?

Tony bent down and got his arms around, well partially around him and tried to hoist Thor to his feet. Okay. That was not going to happen.

"Come on hunky, we got to get you up and moving. Natasha remember? I'm sure she's trying to break in right now with her secret ninja skills. Dummy, a little help here?"

Between the two of them, they managed to get the Thunder God standing, mostly.

"Thank you," Thor thought he mumbled, but it came out like a drooling slur. His reaction to the portal seemed oddly delayed. He felt mostly normal until seconds ago.

Once upright, he tried not to lean so heavily upon Stark. He knew his weight was too much for a human to manage. Even Loki would be impossible for Stark. No, Thor had to do this. He had to retrieve Loki himself and get him to safety.

"My brother, he is not able to help himself to any bed chamber right now. He needs my help to do this. I do not wish to burden you any more than I already have." Thor tried to explain their predicament as succinctly as possible without giving away Loki's utter vulnerability. He trusted Stark enough to ask for sanctuary, but now that he had it, could he trust Stark not to harm Loki? Asking bluntly would surely offend.

He pushed away from Tony and the mechanical servant and walked along the hallway, using the wall to maintain his balance. The vertigo was ebbing somewhat. He reached the vertical lift, dreading its ride down into the depths of the Tower. Because no one could vomit like a son of Odin.

 _Did you ever wish you could just back up and start the day over? How about the entire year? Did I really know what I was getting myself into?_ Tony wondered. He had the feeling this was going to be a cluster fuck of epic proportions.

When Thor pushed away from him and staggered his way to the elevators, the god of thunder had gotten some color back on his pale face, although Tony was not sure green suited him at all.

Tony’s mind was still running around in circles like a hamster trapped in a wheel. It was fairly shouting at him in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Fury's. Mostly, it was saying, "What the fuck are you doing, Stark?"

He’d been told he had horrible impulse control. This just proved it in spades.

Tony didn't know Thor very well, and frankly, he came off most of the time as a pompous ass. But he did save this planet, almost at the expense of his own life, fought and bled alongside them. How could Tony deny him what he asked when he looked so broken?

But his brother, the one responsible for this whole mess? The city was still digging itself out from under the invasions aftermath.

Tony wanted answers as to why Loki did it, but he had to make it clear to Thor that he would be responsible for controlling his crazy-ass sibling. Tony would hide them here, but there had to be a few ground rules, and maintaining control over Loki had to be paramount.

And God forbid the rest of the team found out. They'd kill him, Tony surmised. Actually, the person he wanted here the most was Bruce. At least with the Hulk, Tony would not have to worry about Loki stabbing him in the back. On the other hand, the massive property damage if the Hulk decided to have another 'chat' with Loki was frankly more than he wanted to contemplate.

There was still a Loki shaped hole in the living area of his suite. It hadn't been repaired yet, though the window he tossed him through was replaced, this time with a reinforced polymer compound of Tony’s own design. So no worries there. He'd bounce off and not crash through if someone decided he needed unassisted flying lessons again.

Okay, focus Stark. Get to the penthouse, find out what the fuck was going on, and figure out what to do next.

~*~

Steve hated being cooped up. For weeks, he was limited to SHIELD headquarters and their efforts to bring him fully into the twenty-first century. He felt like he was going stir crazy. Steve needed to get out, to view the city himself, make his own assessments and once more try and get comfortable in the world he had to live in.

Now, after the battle for New York, he was given that chance. But walking the city, taking the subway, familiarizing himself with this age all added to his morose mood. Steve had nothing but time now to reflect and to brood.

Not feeling like having an escort today, he fairly easily ditched his SHIELD watchdogs. It wasn't difficult and a lot of the time they underestimated him. One does not carry out dozens of missions in enemy territory without learning a few tricks along the way.

Steve stopped at a little corner diner he’d discovered in Brooklyn called The Paris Cafe. They served honest to god meatloaf and mashed potatoes on a white china plate and coffee in a heavy ceramic mug with real cream.

Wearing his leather bomber jacket, jeans, and a long sleeved t-shirt, Steve was hardly ever recognized, especially with a ball cap pulled low on his forehead. He was left to eat in peace and think.

How could anyone look at the destruction after the Chitauri attack and not want to do something to help? Steve had all this power to help, yet SHIELD wanted to keep him away from the public eye. The Captain felt like he needed to do whatever he could. Anyone who said he only followed orders obviously didn't know the Howling Commandos very well. The first couple of times Steve slipped away and ended up drawing a crowd or on the news SHIELD was not happy.

If Steve being out there gave the people some hope then no one was going to stop him. He was not a glory hound by any stretch of the imagination, but he wanted to feel useful.

Besides, Steve had very little faith in SHIELD at the moment. He’d been lied to repeatedly and felt that was an abuse of their power. There was one thing the Captain abhorred, and that was a bully.

He’d put up with their poking and prodding and tests for weeks after he woke up. Plus that whole fiasco with the fake apartment was not the way to gain his trust. Did they think he was stupid? Sure everything was different. Louder, brighter, and most of the time confusing. But he was managing, almost.

Technically, Steve was still in the military. He'd gotten wind that they'd tried to stake their claim on him like he was a possession and not a person. Director Fury made it very clear that the only reason the soldier wasn't in an army base lab somewhere was because of his intervention. Supposedly, some general named Ross was eager to get his hands on him but even Fury didn't want that.

Steve was dependent on SHIELD for everything, including the apartment they got him in an older building in Midtown. He guessed it was intended to make him more comfortable in his current surroundings. Steve just found it depressing. Added to that, SHIELD supplied a dossier with the information on his former associates. Everyone was deceased, except for Peggy. It was a fact that the soldier really wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Was he supposed to go see her? Steve just wasn’t ready for that. To Peggy, he'd been gone for decades. For Steve it had only been a few months.

No matter where Steve went, he had at least two SHIELD agents following him. It was degrading and even if they were discreet he still knew they were there.

Steve also wondered where the team he'd been a part of during the attack ended up. The soldier rarely saw Agent Romanoff. He never saw Agent Barton, though he heard Clint was getting put through the ringer like he’d been when he'd first awakened.

Apparently, SHIELD was not so trusting to believe the archer was totally free of Loki's influence. Thor had taken Loki in chains back to Asgard, and that was hard to swallow - other realms, demi gods, and creatures from outer space. It was all like some bad sci-fi serial.

Dr. Banner left with Tony that day in the park, off to parts unknown. Then there was Tony, the son of a man Steve had known, respected even in some ways. He guessed time changed people, some not for the better, judging by the way Tony bristled whenever he mentioned Howard.

But Steve would like to think they’d at least settled a few of their differences during the attack. Afterward, eating shawarma in that ridiculous little hole in the wall restaurant amidst the destruction, Tony had extended an invitation to visit if Steve was in the neighborhood. He was not entirely sure the billionaire was serious. Tony still looked more than a bit concussed.

They’d all been hurt during the fight. Some of them more than others. The blast Steve took  to his side was messy and bloody and would have incapacitated a lesser man. But due to the serum, he healed quickly. Sometimes, his modifications were a blessing and sometimes a curse.

The death of Agent Coulson hit the soldier hard. He'd been someone Steve could call friend. He had been there when SHIELD was doing its best to treat him like some kind of lab rat. The agent kept him from strangling Fury or one of the scientists on more than one occasion. It was Coulson’s sacrifice that brought them all together that day. The sight of those bloody cards had been heart-wrenching. He was a genuine fan, and Steve had done his best not to let him down.

There should have been some kind of memorial service to honor the real hero of that battle. But Fury insisted that Agent Coulson would not have wanted that. He was quietly cremated and his ashes sent back to his family.

Now after everything was said and done, the super soldier felt so adrift. What now?

After he ate and paid his bill, Steve got on the subway and looked out the dingy window at the city around him. The soldier rode for a while. When tiring of that, he got off at the next stop. Steve climbed the stairs out of the station and realized he was only a few blocks from Stark Tower.

Well, Steve guessed he could see if the man was really serious about having him drop by. The soldier felt weird doing so without a direct invitation, but Steve was feeling rather desperate for, if not a friendly face, then a familiar one.

He walked up to the VIP entrance at the back of the building and spotted someone he knew. The red hair and nicely curvy figure was a dead giveaway. Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow, was a formidable fighter with a quick wit and a sharp mind. She reminded Steve, in a lot of ways, of Peggy.

She was standing outside of the secured VIP garage with a fierce scowl on her face that would have sent lesser men running.

She glanced over her shoulder before he was even ten feet away and nodded her head in acknowledgement. Then turned back to the entrance to argue with someone the soldier couldn't see.

"What do you mean Mr. Stark is unavailable? I've tried calling him. And no, I don't want to make an appointment." Agent Romanoff was starting to sound very exasperated. "Are you going to let me in or not?"

"Is there a problem Agent Romanoff?" Steve asked. It didn't occur to him that Tony might not be here.

"Mr. Stark is apparently not seeing any guests at this time." Agent Romanoff replied as she punched in some numbers in a keypad beside the double doors. They didn't appear to work. "What brings you here Captain Rogers?"

"It's just Steve. I was just going to call on Tony to catch up." Steve shrugged awkwardly.

"Director Fury has been trying to get a hold of him for days. Stark industries is handling some of the repairs and tech upgrades for the Helicarrier. Every time Fury tries to contact him, his calls get routed to a '900' number." Her lips quirked upward slightly when she said that.

"A what number?" Steve asked a little confused. This time, Agent Romanoff did smile. It made him a bit uncomfortable.

"A phone sex line," she succinctly stated.

Okay. Steve still didn't quite get it and knew he'd regret asking, but it slipped out before he could stop himself. "Phone sex?"

"You call a certain number, get to talk to a girl who does her best to make you feel good. You know, real good, all the while charging you a fee." Agent Romanoff's explanation was delivered completely monotone, but Steve got the distinct impression she was laughing at him.

"Oh. Um, okay." The soldier colored a bit as he now understood what the term meant. Equally embarrassing was the fact that he had to have a woman explain it to him. Steve was kinda sorry he asked.

Steve was no stranger to sex, especially the bought kind. Not that he ever indulged, but after a mission, the commandos needed to let off some steam, and there were always willing girls, ones that would, for a price, give his team some company for a few hours. How could Steve deny them some simple pleasures to help them wind down when the next mission could be their last?

Bucky hadn't been particularly shy in telling Steve all about his escapades. He'd even tried to drag the Captain to a French brothel for a threesome.

Steve cleared his throat, and his mind, and focused on the situation at hand.

"Fury was not happy when he got the credit card bill," Agent Romanoff said. She sighed as she tried yet another code. "Anyway, apparently Stark is determined to barricade himself inside his little castle. I'm here to make sure he hasn't drank himself to death."

"Does Tony have a problem like that?" Steve asked concerned. He also had trouble thinking of him as Mr. Stark. The Captain always thought of Howard when he said that name. Now that man certainly had a problem with alcohol.

"Occasionally, yes. Along with forgetting to eat and getting so sleep deprived he becomes a danger to himself and everyone around him. He suffers from abysmally poor judgment," she explained. "Excuse me a moment while I call someone."

She stepped away from the door a little and spoke to someone on the phone. Steve thought he heard her mention the name "Pepper," who he recalled was Tony's girlfriend.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ms. Potts. Yes, I'll do that. Not a problem. Thanks," she said before hanging up.

Agent Romanoff stepped to the keypad again and punched in one more code. This time the doors slid open with a hiss.

She turned to look at Steve before walking inside. "Are you coming?"

~*~

Tony ran his hands through his hair again, as if that would help the lingering headache. Shit, he needed a shower, a change of clothes, and some food. Then, maybe he could think clearly.

"Jarvis, make sure Thor gets Loki back upstairs okay? I'll meet them up there."

"Sir, Thor appears still somewhat unwell, but he is now on his way down to the parking garage."

"Location on Miss Romanoff?"

"She is currently entering the back entrance after using Ms. Potts' override code. She also appears to be bringing Captain Rogers inside with her, whom she met outside, coincidentally. 

"Fuck. That's all I need." Tony wondered why everyone picked today to show up. This was quickly heading into the realm of epic disastrous proportions. "Jarvis, continue to tell them I'm not in. I'm currently out, somewhere. Better yet, tell 'em I'm dead."

"Sir, I do not think that is wise."

"Ya think?" he said, raking his hand through his hair. "Damn it. Just make them stay away. I don't care how you do it."

~*~

A little bemused, the Captain followed the Black Widow. "How did you get in?"

"Tony didn't think to revoke Pepper's access, despite the fact they broke up. She asked me to check on him too." Agent Romanoff headed for the elevators.

Steve thought it would be pretty tough to break up with your girl, particularly if you had an ego like Stark. He hoped Tony wasn't in too bad a shape.

"Jarvis, be a dear and tell his majesty that we are here?" Agent Romanoff asked sweetly.

"I will do so, Ms. Romanoff, but sir was quite adamant that he have no visitors."

Where is he now?"

"I'm afraid you are not authorized to have that information, Miss Romanoff."

"Fine. We'll do this the hard way. There are two places he's most likely to be: his workshop or the penthouse. Workshop first, since it’s where he likes to spend most of his time." Agent Romanoff entered another code for the elevator and the doors slid open.

Steve followed her in before the doors closed. "Something tells me this isn't a good idea."

~*~

Tony quickly took another elevator up to the penthouse. He hastily looked around and found the area to be immaculately clean. Not surprising really, because he hadn't been up there since Pepper left.

The billionaire paced in the living area waiting for Thor, wondering how much time he had left before the two inconvenient guests Tony left outside managed to get in.

Jarvis' voice jarred Tony out of his incipient panic attack.

"Sir, I regret to inform you that Miss Romanoff and Captain Rogers have entered the building."

"Fuck. Where are they now?" _I can't panic_ , Tony repeated to himself like a mantra.

"They are now in the elevator to your workshop, sir."

"Okay. Kill that elevator. Tell them it’s an electrical malfunction and that you are working on fixing it."

"Sir, I do not believe this will endear you to Miss Romanoff."

"Just do it. Have you've forgotten we have an illegal house guest? They can't find out Loki's here." Tony wanted to tear his hair out in frustration. This was cruel and unusual punishment for him to go through this before coffee.

"How could I forget, sir? Your wish is my command."

Sarcasm, really? Tony didn’t remember teaching Jarvis sarcasm. Tony sat heavily on the edge of the sofa, dropped his head in his hands and waited for the fall out.

~*~

Steve couldn't think of a more uncomfortable situation, riding in the elevator with a beautiful woman who was a formidable fighter and terrifyingly efficient agent of SHIELD. He had nothing to say. Steve raised his hand the back of his neck and rubbed to ease the tension. Agent Romanoff glanced in his direction.

"So how long have you..." Steve started to ask before the car ground to an abrupt halt. The lights dimmed for a second and came back on the elevator refused to move.

Agent Romanoff pressed a few buttons and then frowned. "Jarvis, what's the problem?"

"I'm sorry Miss Romanoff, but there seems to be a slight electrical problem with the elevator. I am attempting to fix it now. I assure you that there is no danger. If you would wait patiently, it will be rectified soon."

Great, what else, Steve thought as he leaned against the elevator wall prepared to wait it out. Agent Romanoff wasn't that willing.

"Jarvis, that is a load of crap. Stark had something to do with this didn't he?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

"I am going to kill him." Agent Romanoff hissed. "You tell Stark to quit acting like a five year old having a tantrum and let me see him."

"I will convey your message." Jarvis replied in monotone.

~*~

As the elevator sped upward, Loki was fading in and out of consciousness. Thor held him upright on weary legs. He longed for a moment's rest and some cool water.

Thor could not imagine the thirst Loki must have been experiencing. He had taken no food or drink since returning home. A lesser god would have died, but this was Loki, a prince of Asgard, a would-be former king. But regardless of his lineage and station, no god lived forever, but Thor was not yet ready to let him go.

He had no delusion that this would be an easy task, nor did he think they'd be able to turn back once this escape began. He despised Loki for what he did to the people of earth, for what he forced upon Thor's allies, but he did not lack compassion for the desperation Loki must have felt after falling away from Asgard.

He wanted to hear Loki out.  They all asked why, even the Allfather, and yet no one allowed Loki to answer to the queries of his crimes and happenings.  This had to be the worst punishment imaginable for Loki, well beyond the poison that turned his blood to think ink.  He would not be heard by anyone while Vartari still prevented communication.

That was Thor's endeavor, to free Loki from the poisonous binding so he could question Loki himself. There was much to answer for. Thor was not so naive to think he could heal the wounds laid open in Loki's mind. He prepared his heart for the worst, that Loki had succumbed to madness in the time spent between leaving Asgard and bringing war to Midgard.  But he wanted to give Loki one last chance to explain.

"Sir is waiting for you, Odinsons."

Loki managed a chuckle at the title.

Thor lifted his head to look him. Loki's skin was too pale. His eyes were sunken and glassy. The bruising around his mouth where the leather darted in and out of his lips was blackened and raw. It pained Thor to see him this way, though Loki would not believe it.

"Remember your manners, brother. Your enemy has been most gracious to us both with his permission to rest here." He saw fear come into his brother's eyes, felt his body tense with a surge of adrenaline. Thor wondered which enemy Loki imagined. There were many, too many.  "I will not leave you to harm. Please, brother, do not waste this opportunity to begin to make amends."

When Thor dragged his brother out of the elevator, he wrinkled his nose. "We stink like bilgesnipe dung and dragon piss. Very uncomely."

He raised his head and saw their host. "Tony Stark, we have arrived."

Tony looked up from his perch on the couch. His eyes widened as he took in earth's public enemy number one. To say Loki looked like hammered shit was a vast understatement. Hell, even after that beat down by the Hulk, Loki hadn't looked so rough.

Thor appeared to be barely supporting his younger brother. They both seemed worn out and on the verge of collapse. Loki hung at Thor's side, his hair a messy tangle around his face, his thin clothing stained and wrinkled.

"Bring him through here, Thor. Lay him on the bed." Tony let Thor go ahead of him, not knowing what to do if case he passed out. The only thing that would lift him would be if the billionaire went and got the suit. That was something Tony was not too keen on doing. They might take it as a threat.

Another little voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Jarvis whispered, _what are you thinking_? He ignored it just like he tended to do every they piped up. Pepper said it was his conscience. Tony never listened before so why should he now?

Thor drug Loki down the hallway into the bedchamber Stark instructed. It was more difficult to get his brother onto the mattress than he'd admit. Dumping Loki face down revealed Thor's fatigue, but he quickly rolled the slighter prince over. Loki was not pleased but finally, his brother would be able to rest his body.

Loki slowly curled onto his side and shivered violently once. His eyes searched the room, unfocused but wary.

Thor turned his back to his brother and sunk down onto the floor, the bed keeping him upright. Weakness was something Thor strove to hide, but he feared no judgement from Stark. Perhaps it was because they'd survived battle weariness together and thought no less of each other. Perhaps it was because he was too tired to care.

He did wonder about Tony Stark's mechanical servant and wouldn't mind the water to his face at the moment.

 _Okay, now what?_ Tony asked himself. One god in his bed and another almost passed out on the floor. Sounded kind of like the plot for a really good porn movie, if you asked him. But all kidding aside, when Tony got a good look at Loki's face, he couldn't help his startled exclamation.

"What the fuck?" Tony stepped closer and felt his stomach rebel.

Loki was pale as death and sweat beaded his face. He shivered as he lay on his side. But the most horrifying part of this whole tableau was the fact that his lips were sewn shut and the skin around the stitches were dark, infected, and weeping.

Tony shuddered. As a victim of torture, he knew the kinds of depravities that could be inflicted upon the human body, but this was… it was...

Before he could stop himself, Tony got in Thor's face. Not a wise move, but leap before you look and all that.

"What the fuck did they do to him? This is just cruel, Thor. Is this Asgard's idea of justice, this kind of torture? Did you know they'd do this?” Caught up in his own flashbacks Tony just got more pissed. "Maybe it would have been kinder to just kill him. Jesus Christ, Thor! Men get put on trial here for inflicting that kind of punishment.”

He felt Stark's words as if he'd been struck down by a fist. It moved Thor to stand and face Stark as an opponent. The anger he felt transferred wrongfully to the Midgardian, as he wanted to both defend his father and admonish him, but Odin was not there.

"I hear accusation and anger behind your every word, Stark. But know this: Crimes are punished in Asgard in a severe manner to discourage such atrocities from ever occurring. I've seen your justice system, and many times, criminals are merely inconvenienced for the harm they've caused others. In Asgard, punishment is swift and harsh, and because of it, most would never entertain the thought of going against righteous laws put forth to serve the Nine Realms and to bring justice to the innocent against their transgressors."

He took a calming breath and turned to study his brother. "I do not know what shattered the inner workings of Loki's mind and made to him act out in this manner. He is angry at me, angry at the Allfather, at Laufey, and at Fate herself. Even so, I too admit that this kind of torture is not just."

He turned to face Stark again. "I have also broken the laws of Asgard by removing my brother from his prison cell in order to free him from this merciless suffering. I understand your shock at seeing him in this condition, but I must ask, why would you have a care for someone who has grievously hurt your people? Why would have compassion for my brother when you are still burying your dead and rebuilding your city?"

It took everything Tony had not to flinch when Thor rose to his full height and approached him. The blond god was still a little unsteady on his feet, but Tony could see the anger in his face. _He’d made him angry? Well too damn bad._

Okay, fine. Asgard had different laws than America did, but that still didn’t make it right. No one, and Tony meant no one, deserved to be tortured.

Thor asked Tony why he was showing compassion for Loki. It wasn’t so much that he cared one way or the other about Thor’s so called ‘misguided’ sibling. It was just that Loki’s treatment hit Tony too close to home. He had to tell Thor and make him understand. But Tony was not okay with that prospect at all.

If he was going to do this, Tony couldn’t look Thor in the eyes. His hands felt empty without the comforting weight of a cut crystal glass and it's soothing contents. Tony turned towards the bank of windows and tried to keep his voice from shaking. The memories were still too close to the surface.

“Has anyone ever told you how I got this glowing accessory in my chest?”

Tony faced Thor again and pointed at the arc reactor. It was nicely framed in the opening of his half unbuttoned shirt. Usually he kept it covered, but Tony hadn’t been expecting company, especially with it being the weekend.

Thor looked at the glowing device in Tony's chest. "I was told it helps you survive. I know it powers your iron suit, but I know not how you came by it.”

“Helps me survive,” Tony repeated and took a deep breath. “Yeah, but how I got it? Not a nice story at all. Pay close attention. I’m only going to say this once.”

Unable to stay still Tony started to pace.

“I was betrayed by a man I thought of as my father. He sold me out to some men who wanted me to use my abilities to make them weapons. When I was taken, I got hurt. I was caught in an explosion that forced small pieces of metal into my chest near my heart. Another prisoner of theirs helped keep me alive long enough for them to ‘try’ and convince me to help them.

"I was tortured, Thor. The things that were done to me, _no one_ should have to live through. I tried to resist, but in the end, it didn’t do any good.”

Tony was a little dizzy and realized he was breathing too fast on the verge of hyperventilating. He needed to get the rest of the story out and then find someplace dark and quiet where he could curl up in a ball and freak out in private.

“If I was going to get out of captivity, I had to do it myself. So I built the first model of what is now in my chest. It keeps the shards of metal away from my heart. It keeps me alive. Then I built the first Iron Man suit. I got out of there and took down most of my captors as I left.

"The ironic part of this whole story is this: The explosion that caused me my injury in the first place, it was my company built the damn bomb. See, back then I didn’t care who bought my weapons. But after seeing it first hand? It changed me. I vowed that my designs would never hurt anyone ever again.”

Tony couldn’t resist. He needed something to take the edge off. The billionaire walked to the mini bar and poured himself a large whiskey. He took a few gulps and relished the burning in his gut. Better that than the sick nausea.

“So you see, what was done to your brother, I’ve been through something similar. Perhaps it would have been kinder to have been killed, because I sure as hell would not want to live through that again.”

Tony felt something wet on the side of his hand and looked down. Damn it, his hands were shaking again. He set the glass down and clenched his hands into fists, then turned back towards the windows.

He wondered if his rambling confession made any sense at all. It was all still a jumble in his mind. He desperately needed to stuff it back into the box it had oozed out from in his scramble to explain himself to Thor.

Even though Loki was turned away from Stark, he listened. He could barely make out the man’s reflection in the large mirror against the south wall, but he saw and heard far more than Thor’s eyes and ears would have.

Stark’s words conjured repulsive memories of his brutal Chitauri captors and their instruments of torture. How accurately Stark described the helplessness, the panic and shock of it all, the anger and vow of desperation to never return to that terror.

Obviously, Stark had known what it was like to be dragged through the depths of hell for genuine good intentions gone awry. He spoke of betrayal, agony, awareness, and finally redemption. The latter, Loki had yet to experience. Destroying Jotunheim should have been his redeeming act, but it turned out to be the beginning of his fall from of grace. The awareness had only shown him he was an instrument of chaos to be wielded for destruction by whomever bested him in strength and power. And that burned in  him some place deep inside that nothing could extinguish.

How different a world they lived in, and yet how strangely similar.

Still, Stark had exposed too much of himself. He’d laid himself bare and stood alone with no shield and no one to protect him. It made Loki uncomfortable. Did he not realize how easily this information could be used to cripple him, how easily Loki could be the one to do it?

Humans. They set themselves up to fail like this and then wonder why Loki would suggest a different way of managing themselves. Loki rolled his eyes only to regret it immensely as his world spun again.

“I feel both sorrow and admiration for what you have shared with me, Tony Stark. You have had little time to come to terms with such heinous acts of evil much less understand yourself, and yet you are resolved to press forward in the name of decency and righteousness."

Loki shifted awkwardly, moaning in his discomfort, wanting desperately to tell his brother to shut up.

Thor knelt at his brother’s side with little to offer in comfort at the moment. He addressed their host again. “You have responded honorably to wrongs done to you, Stark.  You could have embodied rage and vengeance instead.” He couldn’t help his eyes straying to his brother. “That Loki could learn from your example and turn his rage into redemption is a prayer that I --”

Loki pushed at Thor with weak hands that had more force than he expected. He managed to prop himself up on one shaking elbow. It held him upright long enough for him to claw at the binding in his mouth with his other hand.

"Loki, stop. You know you cannot remove the thread with your fingers."

He then tried to claw at Thor.

"I see you are still combative," Thor observed, struggling with his brother, "but you are as weak and uncoordinated as a newborn foal."

Almost as soon as the quarrel started, Loki wilted and fell unconscious again, worn out by his tantrum. Thor repositioned him on the bedding and sighed heavily. "This is all in vain unless I can free Loki from the binding."

He turned weary eyes towards Stark’s and saw his hands trembling, the alcohol he so desperately longed for spilling out of the cup. Thor felt as responsible for Stark's current discomfort as he did for brother’s direct misery.

“I am sorry to have brought these memories from your past into the light again, where they can do you harm. Where I a spellmaster like my brother, I would offer to ease your anguish by wiping the thought from your mind. Tis a faster method than alcohol and lasts twice as long."

Pull yourself together, Tony thought, as he willed his hands to stop trembling. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. He could do this. In fact, he’d done it many times in the past, mentally duct-taped himself back together.

Tony finished the whiskey in his glass and set it down on the bar. God, he was tired, but there were two beings in this room that needed him more than attending his own pity party.

He forced himself to really look at Loki this time. The horrific wounds to his lips and the real likelihood he was hovering at death’s door spurred Tony to try and do something. But what?

Tony could hardly call any number of private physicians he knew. Loki was a war criminal. And if Thor had the ability to aid his brother, he would have done so already. The billionaire didn’t have a medical degree for Christ sake. He had plenty of others degrees and certificates, but not one that would really help at the moment.

Shit. Tony wished Bruce was here. Not that he wouldn’t Hulk out at first sight of Loki, but he’d take his chances.

“Okay, Thor. What do we need to do here, because I’m totally lost.” Tony gathered his alcohol fueled bravado and approached the bed.

“I need to locate a type of metal that is only forged on earth. A tungsten blade can free my brother from the leather binding and the poison it contains. It is usually a ceremonial dagger. The Allfather has the only one in Asgard. I remember a museum in New Mexico near Jane Foster’s home had a suitable match.”

“Tungsten? Hell, Thor. I have blades like that in the shop. They are some of the best precision tools I own. I thought it would be something difficult like adamantium or something. There is only one place, or should I say person, I know of that has that, and I don’t think we want Wolverine within a mile of your brother. It would not end well.”

Thor knew not of the wolf person he spoke of, but he was grateful Stark possessed the metal dagger needed.

Finally, this was something Tony could do. He'd give Thor the blade, let him cut his brother free, and then what? Well, Tony had no clue what next but first things first.

“Okay, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” Tony turned to and left the room heading for his private elevator.

~*~

Natasha had waited long enough. Jarvis’s assurances that the elevator would soon be fixed was trying her patience. After almost a half an hour of furious pacing in the confined space, she was done.

 

Steve  watched from his corner, trying not to get in the agent’s way. He was able to pick out a few of the Russian curses she spat out and knew her patience was wearing thin. When she turned to look at Steve, he had the feeling he wasn't going to like what she was going to say.

 

"Give me a boost," Agent Romanoff said, as she looked up at the ceiling access panel.

 

"Are you sure that's a good idea? If Tony really doesn't want to see us..." Steve began.

 

"Listen, Stark is up to something. I mentioned he's dangerous when left to his own devices. I mean to find out what's going on with or without your help." She raised one finely sculpted eyebrow and Steve sighed.

 

The Captain cupped his hands and she nimbly stepped into them. He effortlessly raised Natasha up until she could slide the panel to one side. Steve tried really hard to disregard the way her thigh pressed into his cheek or the slightly spicy and floral scent of her perfume. He was profoundly grateful when she climbed up onto the top of the car. Agent Romanoff looked back down through the opening and grinned impishly.

 

"Are you coming?" Then she disappeared from view.

Steve shook his head and told himself he must be crazy. But there was no way he was letting her traverse the elevator shaft on her own.

Steve jumped and grabbed the edges of the opening and pulled himself up. He saw that Agent Romanoff was already on an access ladder running up the side of the shaft. The Captain figured all they had to do was make a short climb to the next floor and force the doors. So without any hesitation he followed.

~*~

“Sir, I regret to inform you that Captain Rogers and Miss Romanoff have exited the elevator and are taking the stairs down to your workshop."

 

“Oh fuck. That is all I need,” Tony muttered to himself.

As Tony got into the lift, he thought maybe if he were lucky he could beat them downstairs. It figured though. Weeks of being left to his own devices and everyone chooses to visit him now? Any other time, Tony would have thought, _Great! Let’s have a party!_ He’d even spring for the good booze.

Why now. The universe must truly hate him.

“Sir, they are currently at the door to your workshop. I have blocked them access.”

“Great, good. Tell them I’m on my way down.” Tony glanced at his reflection in the mirrored wall panel. Hair totally messed up and not in a ‘hey I just rolled out of bed sexy way’, wrinkled white button down shirt, faded jeans with the knees ripped out and bare feet. Yup he looked ready to face the world. Actually, he looked like he’d gone on a week-long bender, which he had.

The elevator stopped and Tony took a deep breath before the doors opened. Then he stepped out.

Showtime. Now they find out how good of an actor he really was. Hiding fugitive Norse Gods in his bedroom: Check. Plan to cover it up: No fucking clue.

Tony arranged his face into a cheerful mask, then confidently walked down the hall. He just hoped his legs wouldn’t give out before he got to them.

“You know, breaking and entering is generally frowned upon,” Tony stated, as Natasha turned to look at him. She seemed completely unfazed by his arrival. At least Cap had the decency to look guilty.

“That's something I would not have had to do if you would have returned Fury’s calls,” she coolly replied.

“Oh, so he didn’t like my little gift? I thought some good old fashioned phone porn would loosen him up a little.” The billionaire pasted on his best smarmy grin.

“Can it, Stark. I really didn't volunteer for this little errand. I was just supposed to make sure you were still alive. Although by the looks of you,” Natasha stepped closer and sniffed, “it appears you were on quite the bender. You reek of booze and its only nine in the morning.”

“Hey, just carrying over the party from the night before. Didn’t you get my invitation? Really though, I have some things I need to do today, so if you don’t mind.” Tony tried to edge past her but she wasn’t budging. It wasn’t worth his life to get her to move.

“I talked to Pepper. She wanted me to make sure you were alright too,” Natasha said softly.

Shit. Okay, frankly, a concerned super deadly ninja spy was kinda freaking Tony out. “Look. It just didn’t work out, okay? I’m fine, she’s fine, we’re all fine here.” Tony ground out a little desperately. He really needed to get back upstairs.

“Tony, you really don’t look well," Steve commented. "When was the last time you slept?”

Okay, now Captain American was piping up. Come on. Tony was an adult here and could take care of himself. Well, not if you listened to Rhodey.

“I slept, ah, last night as a matter of fact. Yeah see, I think I even ate something too, probably yesterday at one point."

Neither seemed convinced.

"Fine. Linger if you must, but I won't be here to oversee that. I really need to grab a few things and get back to... stuff. You know, things to invent and all that.” This time Tony managed to get past the bookends that were blocking his way.

Jarvis, being ever so helpful, opened the door. Tony went into his workshop and, to his dismay, was followed inside. Damn door didn’t close fast enough. As nonchalantly as possible, he grabbed the zippered case that contained the precision blade kit he needed.

“Look, as fun as this has been, I have things to do--”

Tony was interrupted by Natasha’s cell phone.

“Romanoff. Yes, I know. He’s got a session today. No, I didn’t. Well, I don’t blame him, really. I have no idea. When he wants to be found, then you’ll find him. Fine. I’m coming back now.” She clicked her phone shut and frowned.

“Is there a problem?” Cap said from behind Stark.

Tony could not help jumping a little. How could someone so big make no noise when they moved?

“Clint’s taken off. They want me to find him. I’m not so sure that would be a good idea,” Natasha confessed with a long-suffering sigh.

Thinking about everything Barton had gone through kind of made some of Tony’s problems small in comparison. Out of all of them, he got screwed over by Loki the worst. Tony felt a stab of guilt that the being in question was currently residing in his bed.

“Sorry to hear that. So I guess you’ll be going now. Let us know how Barton is would you?” Tony went towards the door hoping they’d get the hint and follow.

To his immense relief, they did.

When they got to the elevator, Tony waited for them to join him. The ride to the garage was quietly uncomfortable. When the doors opened, Tony ushered them out.

“As I said, feel free to visit any time, other than right now. Monday would be better. The work crews will be back, and I can really give you the ten-dollar tour and show you what they're working on.” Tony didn’t wait around to watch them leave the garage and officially step off his property. He had to get back upstairs. 

Natasha observed him with her eyes narrowed. She trusted Tony about as far as she could throw him. “He’s up to something," she told Steve. "I’m not sure what, but it is making me uneasy. Stick with him today. Make sure he doesn’t maim his half-inebriated, sleep-deprived self. I need to go and find my partner.”

“I’ll see what I can do, although I’m not sure I’ll even be allowed back inside.” Steve shook his head. How did he get the unenviable job of babysitting the millionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist?

“Use code 229221 to get back up there. And thanks, Steve,” she said with a slight smile.

He felt his mouth curve up. She was really beautiful when she smiled.

When Natasha left, he put his hands on his hips and looked up. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. How can I be of service?”

“Is Tony really alright?"

Jarvis, after all, was built to protect and look after Tony Stark, even from his own self-destructive tendencies. The Captain just might be the best person to aid the AI in accomplishing his goal.

“Sir is currently entering his penthouse suite. Since you now have a valid override code, I will not impede your progress.”

"Okay," Steve replied, shocked at the ease at which he was allowed entrance. "You have something against dames or were you just toying with her because she's SHIELD?"

The phrase "toying with" would imply the ability to emote. I am no more than my algorithm allows, Captain."

"With Stark creating your programming, I'm sure there's a lot of wiggle room there," Steve murmured.

"Oh, you have no idea."


	2. Chapter 2

Chaos Theory chapter 2

 

When Tony left to retrieve the sacred blade of Tungsten, Thor dropped his head back and closed his eyes in relief.  He rolled his shoulders to try and ease the tension in his muscles.  This was a blessing from the gods. He didn’t have to travel to the other side of America to find the precious metal needed to free Loki from this torment. Tony Stark possessed it right here in his Tower.   
  
He guessed that was part of what it meant to be the Man of Iron.  
  
Thor turned and found Loki watching him.  “Relief is nigh, brother. Soon you will heal, and we can begin again.”  
  
Thor waited for his brother’s pithy reply, but of course got none. Loki’s eyes did appear a little brighter but not from hallucinations from the poison. He’d call it cautiously hopeful with a tinge of nausea.  
  
Thor crawled on hands and knees onto the mattress towards the pillows beside Loki. This spawned a little panic in the younger Asgardian. It was at that point Thor laid a very large arm across Loki’s waist to prevent him from rolling off the mattress onto the floor.  
  
“Why is all a struggle with you, brother? I just wish to rest for a moment.”  
  
Loki knew even if he could speak, his words would fall on deaf ears. He knew the sound of his brother’s fatigue. And without the strength to free himself, he was fated to be Thor’s bedfellow to cuddle.

This was not acceptable.

Tony stepped out of the elevator and into the living area of the penthouse. He carried his case of tools and listened briefly. The suite was almost too quiet. Feeling strangely out of place in his own home, Tony entered the bedroom. The sight that greeted his eyes frankly made him stop and stare. Thor lay face down on the large bed. His head on the pillow and his arm draped over Loki’s midsection. Thor appeared to be deeply asleep...even snoring lightly. Loki, however, was awake.  
  
Tony bit his lip and tried to think of something diplomatic to say. As usual his mouth betrayed him.  
  
“Ah, okay, I see how it is. Good thing you are adopted, because let me tell you, that kind of cuddling between siblings is generally frowned upon here. Illegal even. I can leave you two alone though if you want some privacy.” Tony could not keep the grin off his face even if he tried. Call it sleep deprivation tinged with a hint of drunken stupidity.  
  
Loki shot him his best glare, until there were three Starks. Then he shut his eyes and winced. He'd make Tony Stark pay, once this poison cleared his system. For now, he had to put up with Thor, put up with Stark, and do his best to look pitiful. He doubted the latter was any chore, really. He felt like he could fade any moment, but knew that wouldn't happen. He couldn't be that lucky.   
  
Loki tried his best to elbow Thor somewhere that'd get his attention, but his strength was gone and his limbs did not obey his commands. At best, he ended up rolling towards his brother, staring at the ceiling.   
  
Oh but what he'd give for even the smallest inkling of magic right now. He'd set Thor's pants on fire and turn Stark into a rat. Not creative, but better than vocal and smarmy as he was now.

"Okay, I have to say that green is not a good look on you. Well, your skin anyway. So, uh, you’ll just have to bear with me here. I can cut the bindings, if what Thor said is true about the tungsten. Just promise you won’t knock me through a window.”  
  
With Loki quite intrigued, Tony cautiously approached the bed.  He opened the case and selected a slim handled pointed blade about the size of an exacto knife.Tony tilted his head to try and decide the best way to proceed. It was kind of like taming a tiger with a cap gun and a leash. He just hoped Loki didn’t bite.   
  
“Okay, let’s do this.”  
  
Loki wondered if this was a game Stark was playing. He was just going to set him free - no negotiation, no arrangement, no ultimatum - just free him out of the goodness of his mechanized heart.  
  
Loki swallowed and commanded his pulse to slow. He really didn’t want Stark anywhere near his face with a blade, but what choice did he have really?  
  
And why, in Odin’s name, was he even hesitating? He was utterly useless until freed from the painful bindings in his lips.  
  
He looked at the silver metal blade in Stark’s hand and then back at the man’s dark eyes. He could see a hint of fear there but it was in the shadows of the same  bold recklessness Loki had met weeks ago in this very penthouse.  
  
One day, that would kill him.  
  
Loki nodded his permission once, a slight but regal dip of his chin.  
  
Tony sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that his leg rested against Loki’s hip. Since the demigod was effectively pinned by Thor’s brawny arm, Tony had to scoot in as close as possible.  
  
Loki’s eyes darted to where Stark’s leg pressed against him. His affront lasted less than a heartbeat, but it was recognizable – that this mortal would dare to touch a Prince of Asgard – no, King – without permission. But he’d consented to this necessary contact, hadn’t he? The end result was worth it and would surely wash away the pleasant sensation of heat radiating from Stark’s body.  
  
Tony tried to calm the shaking of his hand. He was a mechanical engineer for Christ’s sake not a doctor. He got a close look at the bindings that kept Loki’s mouth shut and wanted to pretend this day had never happened.   
  
Loki knew greater beings who flinched from the mere sight of his torture, yet Stark had a grim determination to free him and do so quickly without much pretense. He appeared unafraid… or perhaps it was complete naïveté that the same punishment for freeing Loki could befall him.  
  
“So, this is how its going to go. Obviously, I need to touch you to cut this atrocity off. As a stronger-than- fuck demigod, you will not flail, kick, punch or generally try to knock my head off. Got it?"  
  
Finally, Stark’s self-preservation kicked in. Loki had begun to wonder if the man was simply suicidal. He glanced towards Thor. Loki would absolutely not consent to this if the oaf was lucid. Loki met Stark’s eyes and held his gaze, conveying many things, a temporary truce being one of them.  
  
Feeling completely unnerved as Loki’s glazed green eyes watched his every move, Tony leaned in close. He reached out his hand and hesitated. When Loki didn’t give any indication that he would object, Tony firmly grasped Loki’s chin and jaw. The demigod’s skin was clammy to the touch. With his other hand, Tony raised the knife and placed it against the first of the bindings. The surrounding flesh was swollen. Getting the blade where he needed it to be was going to be difficult.  
  
Did Stark know – really know – the level of trust Loki was extending to him at this moment? A wounded animal strikes first and goes for the kill before being killed themselves. Loki was no animal, and yet he feared like one. He’d not admit that to anyone.  
  
A wave of sickness overcame him, and for a moment, it was not Stark looming over him but the Chitauri General, ready to feed Loki his own flesh once more until he swallowed and kept it down. Loki flinched and furiously blinked the terror from his vision. He reminded himself over and over of where he was and that his brother was near, so near that he would surely protect him from any more harm to come to his person.   _An oath sworn twice was no more than a promise broken._ Wasn’t that what their mother had always said? Thor would keep his word but was not help at this moment.   
  
But Loki had to trust someone. Who better than one who has gone through this kind of torment themselves?  

“Here we go. Remember: Do not maim the nice millionaire. Easy. I just need to slide it under a little. I hope Thor was right and I can cut this stuff. Not that I can ask him. Totally passed out now and sawing some serious logs. Almost...almost got it...”  
  
There was pain, but that was not Stark’s intention. Loki’s gut reaction was to reach out and grab the man's wrist, hold the blade away from the raw ache that was causing his heart to race and his body to tremble. But their common goal was Loki’s freedom.  That much he could see in Stark’s eyes.  
  
Sweat beaded Tony’s brow as he carefully sawed at the black cord. Much to his relief, it parted fairly easily. Now, onto the next one. He cut several more, and damn it all to hell, but the next bit was going to be tricky. They were well and truly embedded.  
  
Tony blew out a careful breath.  
  
“I’m going to try and not cut you. But these are really in there good. Just...just hold as still as you can.”  
  
Tony worked the small blade in the best he could, but there was no help for it. He’d have to cut a little deeper. The first stitch refused to give, and as Tony pressed harder, the knife slipped a little. He hastily lifted his hands as Loki flinched. He watched with sick fascination as a fat bead of blood welled out of the cut and trailed down Loki’s chin.  
  
And there it was. The inevitable pain that another can cause. After flinching, Loki opened his eyes, expecting to see malice and glee at the sight of his blood being spilt. What he didn’t anticipate was an apology.  
  
“I’m sorry I have to do this. Fuck.” Tony continued with his work and wished it was over already. There was no help for it. He literally had to saw through the rest, sometimes cutting skin as well. Finally, fucking finally, he got to the last one with a relief so sharp it was almost euphoric. There was a lot of blood, and without a second thought, Tony dabbed at the small wounds with a corner of his hideously-expensive sheets.  
  
Loki felt the vicious binding release, one stitch at a time.  If the cost was more agony, then he’d endure. It almost appeared to pain Stark as much as it did him. Which brought Loki to another thought, but he’d focus on that after he was free.  
  
“Almost done. Just a little more.” As gently as possible, Tony grabbed the cut cords and one by one pulled them out of Loki’s weeping flesh. He dropped them in the trash can beside the bed.  
  
Loki’s rigid body sagged in relief when his lips finally parted. That was, until Stark pulled the sliced binding out through the holes Thor had stabbed through his lips. He would’ve come off the mattress if not for his brother’s arm still slung over him. Loki’s vision blackened, and he thought that if he was to vomit now, at least he wouldn’t drown with the binding removed. He could finally puke like a heathen, and he wanted to puke all over Tony Stark.  
  
Tony ignored the tingling sensation running up the fingers of his right hand. Tony just wanted to get this over with. Then it was finished. Loki was free. Tony watched as Loki sagged back onto the mattress. And why the fuck was his hand burning?  
  
Tony looked at the hand in question and noticed the skin was turning a blotchy red. What the fuck was that cord made of?  
  
Slightly panicked, Tony rushed into the ensuite bath and stuck his hand under the faucet. He scrubbed at his rapidly reddening skin. He’d had all manner of electrical and chemical burns before, and this felt similar, but with the added excitement of an annoying, itching, tingle that was creeping up his wrist. The soap and water seemed to have little effect on the encroaching hives.  
  
When he could think of something other than his extreme nausea, Loki noted the distinct quality of panic to Stark’s voice.  It was then that Loki chose to give thought to the effects of Asgardian poison to a Midgardian.  
  
There was this niggling feeling in the back of Loki’s mind that he should repay Stark for the kindness shown him.  He knew not what he could do in this weakened state, but he should at least try. He tried his best to lift Thor’s arm so he could go to Stark but promptly passed out instead.  
  
“Shit, shit, shit! Damn Asgardian mojo. This is all I need.” Tony stomped back into the bedroom. He was about to confront Loki or wake Thor the fuck up when the door to his bedroom opened.  
  
Steve-I’m Captain-fucking-America-Rogers stood in the doorway.  
  
 _Goddamnit! Could my day get any worse?_ Tony thought as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Apparently it could.  
  
“Wait this is so not what it looks like.” Tony blurted out.

Steve froze and tried to get his brain to wrap around the sight in front of him. He knew he should have left with Agent Romanoff. But she was sure Tony was up to something.

Steve was convinced that not even her instincts could have predicted this.  
  
To say that the Super Soldier was gobsmacked was a vast understatement. He really had no idea what to do. Steve’s fingers flexed, and he wished he had the foresight to bring his shield.  
  
Steve also knew that Tony was reckless, impulsive, and lacked the basic common sense instilled in most thinking creatures. Steve knew; he’d read the files SHIELD kept on this particular billionaire, but this was way out there, even for Stark.   
  
Tony was standing there looking equal parts guilty and slightly freaked out. The first words out of Tony’s mouth spurred Steve into action.

Also, Steve figured he was due a 'freak out,' considering how long he’d held it together. Tony just happened to the the unfortunate target of his melt down. Steve entered the room. His long angry strides eating up the distance between him and Tony.  
  
Steve got within inches of the nervous looking playboy and gestured angrily towards the bed.  
  
“Not what it looks like Tony? It looks to me like you have a dangerous war criminal asleep in your bed. Care to explain that?” Steve hated that his voice rose with every sentence. Normally, he was much more composed than this. “I need to call Fury.”  
  
Oh no, no, no, no....Tony absolutely couldn’t let Captain Pure-Heart rat him out to his arch nemesis.

“Don’t. Just don’t. I can explain. Look, I imagine you see Thor there too, right? It’s not like you can miss him. Thor can keep control of Loki.”  
  
“That’s supposed to make me feel better? Do you realize how dangerous this situation is? Did you forget Loki tried to destroy the world? Look out the window,Tony. You can still see the damage. Did you forget the people that died because of him, did you?” Steve was shouting now and advancing on Tony. Forcing him to back up until he was against the wall.  
  
Tony really hated when someone used their size against him. Even pinned against the wall, he was not backing the fuck down. Tony looked up at Captain Indignant and scowled.  
  
“Just what the fuck was I supposed to do? Thor came to me, begged me to help. They tortured Loki. Sewed his fucking mouth shut with some kind of magical cord. He was dying. I know what that’s like, to be abused like that, to be at the mercy of someone else, unable to defend yourself. So yeah, I helped. It might have been kinder if they’d just killed him.”

"And you didn’t see Thor. He looked so lost, desperate, and maybe a bit broken. I know that look. He was sick too, worn out.  He passed out here because I told him it would be _safe_. Damn it, Steve! I just couldn’t let someone else suffer the way I...shit.”

"Just, nevermind. Call Fury. Call the whole fucking world and let them know Loki is passed out in my bed. But what do you think Thor will do, huh? Do you think he’ll let them just take his brother this time?”

Tony took a deep breath and swayed a little as another wave of dizziness washed over him.  
  
Steve was at a total loss as to what to do. From SHIELD files on Stark, he was aware of what Tony suffered while being held captive by the Ten Rings.

While he was still blazingly angry at Tony’s decision to help Loki, the man was right to do so. Thor, most likely, would not let anyone harm his brother. Steve knew the kind of power Thor wielded. He was still somewhat in awe of the Thunder God.

Also, Steve had seen first hand some of the atrocities committed on prisoners of war. The memories sickened him. At least he could understand Tony’s reasoning, even if he didn’t agree with it. So yes, calling Fury would be an extraordinarily bad idea. So, he had nothing. All Steve could do was hope for Thor’s assurance that he could keep a leash on Loki. But right now, it looked like neither one of them would be capable of causing any trouble any time soon. In fact, Loki did seem to be very ill.  
  
“Damn it, Tony. You don’t make this easy, do you?" Steve sighed and shook his head.  "Fine, I won’t do anything until I talk to Thor. But you realize this is probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. I can’t believe the amount of trouble you attract.”

He decided he would stay and keep a watch on Loki. After all, he was still a soldier and not without means to subdue Loki if he had to. Steve just knew this would come back to bite him on the ass somehow.  
  
“Cursing, Steve? Really? I’m proud of you. But fine, yeah, I get it. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. But you know, I had to help. I was the only one with the right tools to cut Loki’s binding on his mouth, Thor was practically dead to the world, and Loki was suffering. But its done. Now we deal with it.”

Tony stopped and looked at his arm. When the burning sensation increased, he groaned.

“Shit, not now.” Then, he slid down the wall.  
  
Steve watched in alarm as Tony collapsed. He crouched down and stared. Tony’s right arm was cradled in his lap. Steve hissed in sympathy when he saw Tony's hand was swollen and an angry red in color. The dark red blotches reached almost to his elbow where they disappeared under Tony’s rolled up shirt sleeve.  
  
“Tony? What happened to your arm?” Steve reached out and laid his hand on the man's shoulder.  
  
“Loki’s bindings. They must have had something on them. Poison, I’m not sure. Could be fucking magic for all I know. It’s getting worse.” Tony laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.  
  
“I need to get you to a hospital.” Steve stated, prepared to haul Tony to his feet.  
  
“No hospital! I doubt they can do anything. Its from Asgard, Steve. Bruce, get Bruce here.  I gave him a phone before he left. His number is in my cell. He might be able to help. I have a lab here all ready for him right next to mine.You have to wake Thor up too and ask him what was on that shit. Fuck, I’m dizzy.” Tony fumbled in his pocket and handed the phone to Steve.  
  
“Alright, Tony. I can do that. Just sit still while I help.” Steve grabbed the phone and was relieved to see it was similar to his. He found Dr. Banner in the contact list.  
  
Steve pressed the tile to start the call and ran a nervous hand through his hair as the phone dialed the number. Then the call went to voicemail. Damn it!

“Uh, Dr. Banner? This is Steve Rogers. Tony asked me to call you. We need your help. Tony’s been poisoned and he says you can help him. Please, if you hear this, get here as fast as you can. Tony won’t let me take him to a hospital. He says there’s nothing they can do because of the nature of the, uh, problem.” Steve hung up and laid the phone aside.  
  
“Tony? let me get you up off the floor, okay?” Tony nodded, and Steve carefully helped the playboy to his feet and over to a long wide sofa.  
  
“See if you can talk to Thor. Maybe he knows something?” Tony laid his head down on the arm of the sofa. His affected arm held on his lap. It took all his willpower not to scratch bloody furrows into his burning skin.  
  
Steve went over to the bed to try and get some help.

“Thor? You have to wake up. Something's wrong with Tony. I think he’s been poisoned.” In desperation Steve nudged Thor fairly hard in the shoulder.

~*~

Hope wasn't something Bruce felt often anymore. Still, he continued to try to reconcile the feeling that lurked in his chest since the events in New York. He'd be lying if he didn't acknowledge it and at least give it a name. He could study it that way, try to understand its properties and potential outcomes. Because, it was undeniable that he didn't feel so alone anymore. So if it wasn't hope, then what was it?

 

He figured this was all Tony Stark's fault.  Not in a million years would he have pegged such an narcissistic, idiosyncratic man to extend the hand of friendship to Dr. Bruce Banner, of all people. He was a nerdy scientist gone wrong with the resultant destructive monster now living inside him.  Tony Stark had a technological supercomputer mind in a body more suited for the cover of GQ magazine than a battlefield.  Bruce guessed he could blame Loki, Fury, and the Tesseract. Those things brought Stark and him to the same deck of the Helicarrier, but really, it was Bruce's thermonuclear astrophysics exposition that took things a step farther. Tony had read it in one night and had the intelligence to both comprehend it and still look cool. And then he offered Bruce blueberries and a pep talk.

 

Tony was so very different from Bruce, which is why he still had a hard time believing Tony meant it when he called Bruce his "friend". He'd been called many things - abomination, catastrophe, freak, monster, dweeb, scientist, doctor - but he hadn't heard "friend" in such a while that it almost sounded foreign when Tony had said it when they'd parted weeks ago.

 

He would never admit that he'd spent far too many hours analyzing the possible scenarios in which Tony would've called him such. Maybe it was a common moniker for those who aren't "enemy" in the same way someone might use the word "dude" or "man". Perhaps Tony just forgot himself when it slipped his tongue, like, "See you later, my friend." Bruce only thought about it when my mind wasn't occupied by other things. So far, he'd reduced the occurrence rate to about forty-two times a day. The lure of a possible friendship had been like a damn siren call. Bruce found himself pretty angry at times for allowing that needy part of his mind to even suggest it.

 

The Other Guy thought it was funny. The bastard.

 

Bruce couldn’t help but wonder what happened to everyone in the "team" either. Some of them took some pretty hard hits, and others might not be able to handle the fallout. They were extraordinary people, alright. Bruce was just not sure where he would possibly fit in.

 

But that is what brought him here, in front of Stark Tower, labeling this illogical feeling called _hope_ and turning it into a blind experiment. Bruce was more comfortable with that terminology.  He would simply collect data on the variables and compile the statistics for analysis. It could be a big mistake and over rather quickly, especially if the Other Guy didn’t like this at all.

 

Or it might lead to something Bruce told himself a million times that he didn't need or deserve anymore - a friend.

~*~

  
“…this wildly expensive renovation for the lobby. He’s also restoring the ceiling mural, which obviously is dedicated to his huge ego. Oh hang on a sec, I gotta take this.”  
  
Bruce watched the lollipop emerge from Darcy Lewis’ mouth and stared at her lips in fascination.

"This is Darcy."

She twirled the cherry lollipop against her tongue while she listened to the communication device in her ear. “Oh okay. Sure, Jarvis. I’ll send him right up.”  
  
She turned her big blue eyes on him – the ones that seemed perpetually disinterested in everything and yet not – and said, “Hey, it looks like you are needed upstairs. Something about an emergency with Captain America having kittens because you didn’t answer your phone or something.”  
  
“Oh, ohh,” Bruce stuttered. He switched his jacket to his other arm and fished his cell phone out of the satchel slung on his shoulder. He’d turned his phone off on the long flight back to New York and had yet to even think about it. While he powered it back on, he tried to make sense of the rest of her words.  
  
“Um,” Darcy started to say, “I think you pretty much got the same message waiting for you on your cell that I just relayed to you. So why don’t you head down that hallway and tell security you’re Dr Banner. I think they’ll recognize you.” Because just about everyone in America recognized him due to the whole saving the world from hostile takeover thing and the Hulk becoming an action figure thing. “But if they give you any shit, send ‘em to me. 'Kay?”  
  
She winked at him and popped the candy on a stick back into her mouth, which flustered him even more. Darcy sauntered back to the curved front desk in the lobby of Stark Tower, like she didn’t really give a damn that he could wreck the place.  
  
His cell phone vibrated against his hand once when it powered on. He walked down the hallway Darcy instructed, steering himself through the people milling about.  Bruce watched the bars on his phone designated for signal strength reach their full potential. Then it chirped at him, notifying him of three missed calls and two messages. He made it to the security guard and decided it would be rude to tend to his messages.  
  
“Uh, hi. I’m Dr. Banner,” he said, glancing up at the large man.  The guard stood at ease in front of a particular portion of the hallway. It simply looked like part of the wall with tasteful wainscot and a vase of flowers on a nearby table. It was only notable from the rest of the hallway for the framed print of 'The Scream' to the right of the table.  
  
“Yes sir. One moment.”

He then touched his ear piece, listening. After a few moments, he stepped to the right and the wall seemed to slide open. Oh.

“This is a high speed elevator that will only stop at the 74th floor,” the man said to Bruce. “It will take 14 seconds to ascend. You will exit and then take another private car to Mr. Stark’s floors. Are you comfortable with that, sir?”  
  
Bruce chuckled and rubbed chin. “Uh yeah. I’ll um, try to keep myself in check.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.”  
  
Bruce had to give it to this guy. If he was afraid of the Hulk, he didn’t let it slip, until that last thanks for his control of the Other Guy. So Bruce stepped in to the spacious car decorated in mirrors and ornate carved wood.  Aerosmith was playing over the speakers... Love in an Elevator. Really, Tony?  Bruce tried to check his messages on the way up, realizing that the reception in an elevator really was shit.  
  
What he did catch was a message from Tony calling him a few days ago to check on him. That one seemed harmless enough. The second message was definitely Steve Rogers. Bruce interpreted something about Tony and poison and a hospital.”  
  
His stomach lurched and his body tingled with a surge of adrenaline. His mind all too quickly imagined what the brilliant engineer could get into that could harm him. Stark worked with rocket propellant and liquified elements, one of which was new to the periodic table. Yeah, Tony had the potential to do some real harm to himself.  
  
Bruce stepped off at floor 74 into an empty parlor. It had two planters, a full bar, four couches, a conference table with chairs, and the most expansive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Manhattan that Bruce had ever seen.  
  
“Dr. Banner,” Bruce heard.  
  
“Uh, hello?” He looked around for the disembodied voice.  
  
“I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark’s personal intelligent agent.”  
  
“Like uh, artificial intelligence?”  
  
“Yes, sir. If you would enter the elevator on the north side of the room, I will promptly arrange for your arrival to the suite.”  
  
“And it is camouflaged like the one downstairs?”  
  
“Yes sir, but I’ve opened the door for you already, so it is easily discernable from the tacky Andy Warhol portrait.”  
  
Bruce chuckled before doing as the A.I. instructed. Odd that it had a British accent. He’d have to ask Tony about that. He scratched at the stubble on his chin and began to process the implications of Stark with an A.I. He wondered just how intelligent he'd made Jarvis, considering its creator, and wanted to test out its protocols.  “So I, uh, got a message that Tony had been poisoned?”  
  
“Yes, sir. Your medical knowledge is urgently needed. Although I must say, there are some variables in this particular equation that may alarm you.”  
  
Bruce’s brow shot up. “How alarming?”  
  
“As in, the current remodeling that has begun in the suite may now have been little premature.”  
  
Bruce pressed his lips together and tried to interpret that any other way than meaning he just might Hulk out and destroy portions of Tony’s penthouse suite. Again.  
  
This could've meant that Tony experimented on himself.  Because Bruce could think of little Stark could do that would anger him more, especially when Tony had been face-to-face with the brutal results of that kind of scientific perversion.  Every time anyone looked at Dr. Bruce Banner, a.k.a. The Hulk, there it was. It was a direct cause and effect with no room for misinterpretation. Until you threw Steve Rogers into the picture. Then everyone got all excited again and tended to look right past Bruce and the Other Guy.  
  
At least there’d be no Asgardian maniac trying to take over the world again to _really_ piss him off. He assured himself that nothing Tony had gotten himself into could be as bad as that.

~*~

  
Thor swung his fist before his eyes were even open. He felt his arm leave Loki’s body and his hand ball up, so he twisted into his swing to connect with whatever annoyance was poking him in the shoulder. There was nothing but air. He heard a muffled curse but that was all.  
  
Steve was expecting such an abrupt wake-up and dodged accordingly. Being on the front lines as long as he had, Steve had honed those instincts. Besides, getting swatted like a fly by a disoriented demigod was not the way he wished for his reunion to go.  
  
Thor’s feet found the floor and he staggered upright, eyes slowing opening without quite focusing.  
  
“Steve Rogers,” he finally acknowledged to the man standing now two arms lengths away.  Thor was still ninety-percent asleep. He looked like a small giant about to keel over. His eyes found the bed and he longed to return to it. But the Captain walked over towards him, hands held up in a sign of peace. He stood between the mattress and Thor, blocking his path back to the respite the Asgardian longed for with all his strength.  
  
“No, no, no, no, no.  Thor, you can’t go back to sleep yet.  We need your help, and I've got a lot of questions for you.”  
  
Steve glanced over at Tony. The man laid there with his eyes closed and his hands were clenched. Sweat dotted his brow. He knew it was taking a huge effort not to scratch the weals decorating his arm.  
  
“Thor, what is going on? Tony told me you needed help, but why here? At this point, I don't know what supposed to do. How can I trust Loki?" Steve wondered how Thor was staying on his feet. He’d never seen him look so exhausted. The Captain tried not to grind his teeth in frustration. He hated feeling so helpless. "And look at Tony. He helped you and now he’s sick. Please give me some assurance that this can be fixed.”

Loki remained absolutely still, save for breathing. His sluggish mind was furiously trying to figure out his escape. He’d heard most of the argument between Stark and Rogers, and although it was clear that he was welcome by this Tower's master – for some rather complicated reasons – what was also clear was that Rogers had quite a bit of authority over him.  
  
Even so, Stark was quite talented with diplomacy and manipulation. Because of this, Rogers had withdrawn his initial threats to expose Stark for harboring fugitives from Asgard, but where exactly did that leave Loki? He remained a prisoner here, but he _was_ presently in a more comfortable cell under far more yielding watch guards. He could expect his strength to slowly return, and with it, his illustrious abilities in the form known to most as magic. He could escape easily and permanently from them at that point.   
  
If only Rogers hadn’t discovered them, he could have done it rather peacefully.  
  
Still, it could’ve been far worse, Loki just wasn’t sure how to get around the current situation.  And being he had much to do with it, well… If anyone implied Stark had been intentionally or even unintentionally poisoned by Loki, things could go poorly for him.  Knowing Thor, he’d make that implication before realizing it, damning Loki to further persecution. It had happened in the past more times he could count when they were children. Frigga would look disappointed, and the Allfather would come down harshly on Loki.  So could he bet on anything different?   
  
Yes, Loki was no longer was pinned down by his older sibling, but Thor would most likely be of no help at all -- to Stark’s condition or Loki's innocence.  
  
The situation began to irritate him.  He was clearly in a room of fools.  His brain was the only one functioning on a higher level, and that said much, considering his was full of a potent poison.

~*~

  
Tony listened to the debate going on by the bed. Someone just needed to cure him and right now, damn it. Never very good with impulse control, he finally gave in to his urges and began to scratch his red-streaked arm. It was then Tony noticed with some alarm that the discoloration now reached almost to his elbow.  
  
Which was not good at all.   
  
“Uh guys...maybe you should pay a little more attention to me here. You know, the good samaritan that now has some sort of Asgardian plague?” The vigorous digging at his skin provided little relief and Tony didn’t even notice that he’d broken the skin and his fingernails were now red tinged.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who read and reviewed. We are ecstatic that you are following our story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have read and left kudos or reviewed.

Chaos Theory chapter 3

 

Thor woke slowly, swaying a little before catching himself. He rubbed his face with both his hands and took a deep breath before forcing it out of his lungs in a huff.  Feeling no more awake than before, he tried to focus. Steve Rogers was speaking to him. He comprehended only a portion of what the young captain said, but what caught his attention was that Tony Stark was sick.

 

“Asgardian plague?" Thor repeated back to Rogers. "There is no such thing.”

 

He walked over to the couch where the Midgardian sat and knelt down beside Stark. “What has happened to you?”

 

Tony opened his eyes and stared blearily at Thor. “Well let’s see: I helped cut the bindings on your brother’s mouth and then this happened.  So you tell me, because seriously, I'm not digging the whole swelling with itching side effects of my generosity.”

 

Steve followed Thor over to the sofa. He too looked down at Tony and was alarmed at what he saw. Maybe Thor could still pull it together enough to give them some much needed answers. Steve wondered what the hell he was going to do if all three of them passed out, Thor looking like death warmed over, Tony trying to claw his own arm off, and then there was Loki.

 

Steve spared a glance at the trickster. He was gaunt, pale, and sweating, dressed in soiled leathers and linen, panting shallowly through grotesquely swollen lips. He wondered how Loki was even still alive. No matter his crimes,Tony was right. No one deserved that.

 

“Tony Stark," Thor bellowed, eyes wide in horror. "Why have you done this?”

 

Thor grabbed the man’s forearm in one of his strong hands and held tightly onto Tony’s other wrist, preventing Stark from scratching more bloody gouges into his skin. He leaned in close and looked into the man's eyes, his voice booming in the small room as he spoke quickly: “This was _not_ your task to complete. I asked you for no such favor. You said you would bring me the tungsten blade. That was all I asked of you. For a reason.”

 

Tony pulled his arm from Thor’s almost too tight grasp. “Well excuse the shit out of me for panicking. What was I supposed to do, just stand there and let him expire? You were practically dead to the world and Loki was looking at me with these huge green eyes that just screamed, ‘help me, you idiot'.”

 

Tony did his best to look wounded and affronted at the same time. It might have been easier to carry it off if he hadn’t been practically squirming, eager to dig into his burning, itching skin again.

 

“Those bindings were poisoned,” Thor shouted. “You were not meant to touch them. I was to free what I imprisoned.  No mortal could ever hope to…"

He stood up from looming over Tony and pulled his loose hair back from his face. He stared down at the man who suddenly appeared so weak and vulnerable to him.  Panic mixed with his resignation.

 

“I know not what will happen to you,” he said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief at the tenacity of this Midgardian.

 

Steve took in a sharp breath.

 

"What do you mean, you don't know what will happen?" He grabbed Thor’s shoulder and used his considerable strength to turn the demigod to face him. “Are you saying that you don't know how to help Tony?"

 

"I could not help Loki in Asgard. It was why we fled," Thor reminded. "Now I do not know how to help Stark."

 

Steve eyed Tony with a grim frown before asking Thor, "How bad is it going to get?”

 

Tony let his head thunk back down onto the arm of the couch. _Well wasn’t that just peachy?_

 

“You know what? Karma is really a bitch. Fuck! Well someone better think of something, cause you know, I’m not really into the dying thing. You know what else? I thought I had the fucked up family, but Thor, my man, you take the cake. You had to be the one to free Loki, like some Disney fairy tale or something? Cause let me tell you, I didn’t sign on to be the handsome prince in this story… even if the handsome part is true. Look where it got me. Babbling… am I babbling?” Tony raised a hand to his forehead. “Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?”

 

“Loki,” Thor shouted and crossed the room to the bed in three strides, kneeling on the mattress and lifting his brother by the shoulders. “You must wake.”

 

Green eyes opened immediately, far more clear and observant than they should’ve been, had Loki been truly asleep.  He pushed back at Thor but there was no fight in him yet. He couldn’t have swatted a fly much less distanced himself from his overwhelming brother.

 

“Brother, Tony Stark has freed you, but in doing so, he has fallen ill to the same toxin that has kept you in agony. How can we help him? He has shown you mercy and also so graciously welcomed us into his home, so tell me, how can we help him?"

 

Loki stilled and then narrowed his eyes at Thor, feeling the awkward stab of guilt.

 

Damn.

 

He sighed heavily, glanced over at the pathetic man laying on the couch, who’d taken up to scratching again.  Loki opened his mouth to say several choice pithy replies but produced no noise. The act of speaking merely produced more pain. And his lips started bleeding again.

 

Tony was scratching once more. Thor was mildly freaking out.  Hell, even Steve felt he was moments from losing it himself. There had to be something he could do. Loki was trying to speak. Maybe he knew something that could help, but then no words passed his abused mouth.

 

Water, Loki needed water. Steve rushed to one of the doors in the room and opened it. Nope. Closet. Another door, another closet. Steve almost growled in frustration when he found yet another… you guessed it… closet.

 

_How many freaking closets did one man need?_

 

Who was he kidding? This was Tony Stark.

 

Finally, he found the bathroom. If the situation had not been this dire, he would have chuckled at the palatial commode. Marble tile, double sinks, a huge vanity and dressing table. A shower big enough for five people. But he found what he was looking for, a simple glass on the sink, which he hastily filled with cool water. Steve hurried back into the bedroom and stopped at the side of the bed.

 

“Here.” He held the glass out to Thor. "It's water for Loki."

 

“Excuse me, sir?” Jarvis’  insistent voice cut through Tony’s itch fest.

 

“What’s up, J,” Tony asked, as he pretended not to notice the damage he’d done to his arm.

 

“I must inform you that Dr. Banner is on his way up to the penthouse. He’ll be here momentarily.”

 

Tony’s eyes widened as visions of the massive collateral damage flashed before his eyes. He needed to head Bruce off at the pass to avoid any god-induced Hulk outs.

 

Tony observed the bizarre show of Steve playing nice with Thor and his demented brother pacified with some water. That was one worry off his mind. Now to deal with the other potential disaster.

 

While everyone else was occupied, Tony levered himself off the couch and staggered down the hall and out into the foyer. He reached the elevator right as the door opened.

 

Truly, Bruce was a sight for sore eyes. Tony dredged up his best smile, even if it came off a little sickly. He absently scratched at the welts and tried to think of how to tell Bruce what was going on.

 

“Bruce, babe! Glad you could drop in. The more the merrier. Well, not really merry, but you get the idea."

 

Bruce's first thoughts were of relief. Tony was upright and speaking, albeit rambling in the way he does at a swift clip.

 

"I kinda need your help," Tony admitted. "Also, promise me to stay calm, yeah? I have to tell you something that you or the 'Other Guy’ might not like."

 

Bruce backed up a step. And here we go with another request for a promise from himself and the Other Guy to remain calm. This was going to be a test of control, but when wasn’t it? Particularly when Tony was involved.

 

"But whoa, give me minute. Really dizzy here, not feeling too good. Damn Asgardian magical poison.” Tony sagged against the wall depending on it to keep him on his feet. It would be really undignified and downright embarrassing to collapse at Bruce’s feet.

 

Bruce discarded his satchel and dropped his jacket on top of it. His mind was processing the information Tony was spewing out of mouth, cataloging it, observing the immediate environment, the redness and irritation to Tony’s arm and hand, and the gouge marks already scored into his skin. Also, there was blood under Tony’s fingernails, connecting the dots to the scratch marks.

 

And okay, Bruce thought, Tony is dizzy. This just moved from 'an annoying rash' into a systemic neurologic reaction. Definitely concerning.

 

And when Tony said “Asgardian magical poison,” that's when the sirens really went off and his heart began thudding in his chest. Somewhere inside him, the Other Guy began to stir.

 

Bruce steadied Tony, pressing his shoulders against the wall. With his other hand, he lifted Tony’s chin and held his head still to reduce the dizziness. “Tony. Tony, breathe. There you go. Okay, once more with a deep breath and exhale.”

 

Bruce watched his eyes for dilation, ability to focus, involuntary movement and tracking.  “Now tell me what you mean when you say "Asgardian magical poison"? That's not just something you have laying around the workshop.”

 

Tony closed his eyes for a second hoping the room would stop spinning. Bruce’s hand was a welcoming warm weight on his shoulder. Just the presence of the other scientist was comforting.

 

“Okay, so here’s the thing, and I have no idea how to put this delicately so I am just going to come right out and say it."

 

Bruce stared at Tony who stared back. The doctor cocked an eyebrow, as if to say, _spit it out._ Stark squinted, _are you sure?_

 

"Tony," Bruce scolded.

 

"Okay. Thor showed up here unexpectedly. He had a favor to ask. A really huge fucking favor. Shit. I think I need to sit down.” Tony sagged further against Bruce.

 

"You are sitting down."

 

“Oh wow, okay.  Remember. You promised not to Hulk out on me here."

 

"I didn't promise. You just asked me to promise, but I didn't."

 

"Oh."

 

"Look," Bruce said, finding some amusement in this conversation but far more concerned with the man's condition. "I'm not really sure I can put a guarantee on that but let's focus on you for one more minute. Tell me what happened to your arm?"

 

"The thing is... Thor brought Loki with him."

 

Bruce stood, backpedaling away from Tony in total disbelief. The blood began to roar in his ears.

 

"Listen, they fucking tortured him, Bruce. Sewed his mouth shut. I… it was too much like what the Ten Rings did to me. No one deserves that, okay? I know Loki is a demented bastard. But damn it, Bruce, Loki was almost dead. And Thor, he was hanging on by a thread, desperate to save him. Pissing off a Thunder God? Not a good idea. So, Thor passed out, and Loki, he was lying there with these oozing huge stitches in his lips. I had to do  something.”

 

"You're punking me. You're fucking punking me right now, aren't you."

 

Tony shook his head in the negative. He held up his gouged arm. “This happened when I cut the leather cord off Loki. Must have been some kind of magical poison.”  

 

Tony gasped for air as his stomach threatened to hurl all over his friend. His only other thought was the hope that Bruce wouldn’t lose it.

 

Bruce heard three things: First, Tony was begging for help - and he obviously needed it - which allowed no time for the Hulk to appear and freak out because, second, Loki was or had been here and had hurt Tony, perhaps unintentionally, but the outcome was the same. And last, Tony’s future hinged on the progression or resolution of a poison from an alien world, of which only Thor and/or that Loki bastard could offer knowledge of its cure.

 

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut. _Don’t change. Tony needs me_. _Please._

 

When he opened his eyes, his hands and arms were distinctively green. His body was burning with the tingle of transformation.

 

“I said no,” Bruce shouted.

 

Tony flinched, but more importantly, the Hulk receded, but not before replying in what Bruce could have only described as a Hulk-sized “fuck you” roar inside their shared psyche. It kind of hurt inside his head, but what hurt Bruce also hurt the Other Guy. And that made Bruce chuckle.

 

“Sorry,” Bruce offered Tony with a lopsided smile. It died quickly on his face though when he saw the color drain from his friend's face.

 

“Come here,” he said and helped Tony to a nearby chair.

 

“Jarvis? A trash bin?”

 

“Behind the bar on your right,” the British-accented AI replied. “It is under the sink.”

 

“Thanks,” Bruce also snagged two of the dish towels stacked neatly in one of the cabinets and tied them together. He brought them all back and set the can beside Tony in case he vomited. The dish towels he tied around Tony’s bicep, a couple of inches above the redness. He guessed it was far too late to stop any poison from circulating with a tourniquet but it was worth a shot.

 

“I’m sure you’ve heard this many times from Pepper and James Rhodes, but we seriously have to discuss your life choices, Tony.” He found the man’s pulse in the wrist that wasn’t speckled in red angry blotches and counted a ten-second run. “I take it this poison only spreads by direct contact of whatever Asgardian torture device you came in contact with since it’s only in one arm. Doesn't look like it is happening to the one you’re using to shred your skin.”

 

Tony tipped his head back against the chair and soaked in the comfort offered by Bruce. “Yeah, this happened when I touched the cords tying his mouth shut. I threw them in the trash can by the bed."

 

“Jarvis, how long ago did this happen?”

 

“Thirty three minutes ago.”

 

Bruce heard the Hulk laugh. It was a freakishly predatory sound that promised imminent destruction, mostly of a lanky Asgardian prince whose life should’ve already been ended.

 

“And… where is Loki now?”

 

A part of Bruce, most definitely the Hulk part, hoped Jarvis would answer before Tony stopped him.

 

"Hey. It's not Loki's fault.  He’s still in my bedroom with Thor and Cap. I’m surprised there’s been no destruction yet. Shit, we should probably check on em.” Tony looked around the lounge area towards the bedroom. He tried to get up but the room spun sickeningly. “Man, I’ve really screwed myself this time huh? I… I think I might need that trashcan now.”

 

Tony leaned forward and retched noisily into the held out receptacle, not bringing up much but bile. He’d not eaten anything yet this day and his stomach cramped painfully.

 

Bruce's ears began to ring. He went through the fastest transformation into the Other Guy since the time on the street in front of the Leviathan when the Chitauri were attacking. It was decidedly disorienting and the best rush in the whole world.

 

One second he was listening to Tony wretch and then next was a view from a considerably different height. And he was seeing red.

 

In this form, he could smell Loki, sick and weak and scared. The Other Guy surged forward, fists balled up, until the distinct scent of vomit reached his nostrils. The Other Guy turned back to Stark.

 

There was a war in his thick skull that even Bruce wasn't sure who would win, but he was betting on Stark...

 

The Hulk let out a throaty roar of frustration that shook the windows, and from somewhere nearby, Loki whimpered.

 

Tony for expediency's sake stopped retching. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d had to control that impulse. Many years as a serious drinker taught him that. He cursed weakly and dropped the trashcan.

 

One minute, Bruce was helping him lose his cookies, and the next, he was large, green and angry. He literally threw himself backwards as the Hulk roared. The chair toppled over and Tony hit the floor.

 

“Oh fuck. Fuck… not now. Come on, big guy. Please don’t destroy anything. My insurance company hates me enough already. I really don’t feel up to this.  Cut me some slack, okay? Please, please, please?” Tony really hated to beg, but his head was pounding and he felt so shaky and ill.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Steve filled up the small glass with cool water and returned to the suite, where Thor sat on Tony's bed next to his ailing brother.

 

“Here, I brought Loki some water."

 

“Thank you, my friend,” Thor said sincerely.

 

Loki would never admit it, but when he heard that Dr. Banner had arrived at the Tower, he felt true fear again. He gripped Thor’s armor tight and sought his eyes, silently asking Thor if he’d let the beast inside Banner beat him to death.

 

“No harm will come to you, brother. I swear it,” Thor replied. "You will have time to heal here, as Stark has promised."

 

Loki wasn't convinced at all. If he actually sought death, Banner could be the one to send him to the shores of Hel’s land. It was an option, frighteningly enough, if things didn't improve.

 

“I will take you from here if he threatens,” Thor reassured. “We must trust Stark with the sanctuary he has granted us. And I trust that his friends will respect his choices," Thor said, glancing at Steve. "Now, brother, try to drink this.”

 

And then, all Loki’s anxiety vanished. His only thoughts were for the liquid in the glass Thor held. He didn’t care if he had to drink the water from Thor’s own mouth at that point. There was nothing that existed outside his unfathomable need for water.

 

He drank from the cup held up to his wounded lips. The pain didn’t prevent him from swallowing the first sip. He spit most of it back up, coughing much of it right into Thor’s face, but to his brother’s credit, he didn’t hesitate to allow Loki to try again.

 

It was then that Loki felt actual affection for his brother once more.

 

Between Thor’s nurturing patience and Loki’s body finally accepting the divine cool liquid, he began to feel hope once again.  His tongue no longer felt as swollen and useless as before and his throat wasn’t the ancient desert he thought it to be earlier.

 

When the glass was empty, Loki relinquished his feeble grip on his brother’s arm and relaxed against him. It was childish, and he’d likely regret the show of trust and surrender all too soon, but it was the first glimpse of salvation he’d felt in longer than his addled mind could remember.

 

Unfortunately, Thor was smiling down at him. And that ruined the moment as soon as it had begun.

 

“What?” Loki managed to croak out. His voice was still hoarse and strained. It pained him to speak, but at least he could communicate now.  And he wasn’t as dizzy as before.  It was another benefit to being a god, his miraculous healing properties. He knew it would be a long while before he was actually back to his full potential, but this was a strong indication of what was to come.

 

“I feared you were lost to me, brother," Thor said affectionately. "I am pleased to hear your voice again. Is that so wrong?”

 

“Frankly, it is quite creepy,” Loki managed to whisper.

 

He struggled to sit up and did so with Thor’s help. He almost toppled over to the side, but Thor slung his strong arm around Loki’s shoulders and held him steady against his side.

 

Loki tried to glare at the man standing in the room for witnessing all of this, but Steve Rogers had also helped him, and Loki knew in his heart it would be wrong to mock the Captain, particularly when he wanted more to drink.

 

“Another?” Loki asked, head down but eyes beseeching. “Please?”

 

Steve hesitated a moment. It was not in him to deny anyone a plea like that even if they were a prisoner. But Steve was desperately worried about Tony and he needed to know how to help him.

 

“I will get you some more water, but before I do, you have to tell me what’s wrong with Tony.” Steve frowned down at Loki. Hoping that he would be able to tell him something, anything.

 

Loki let his head drop in mock shame but felt a twinge of regard for the soldier. Steve Rogers had obviously been on both sides of brutality, the side with the leverage more often than Stark.  The Captain didn’t hesitate to use his advantage.  He could respect that.

 

“Brother?” Thor started in, but Loki raised a hand to silence him. Again, Loki knew if he did not cooperate here and now, he would get nowhere.

 

And he always repaid his debts.

 

“The question,” Loki croaked out in a broken whisper, “is not what’s wrong. The question is how to make Stark right again.”

 

“I know you can help him, brother. You saved Fandral from the night ashe poison and Lady Sif from a venomous serpent's bite. You can save Stark now too.”

 

“With what?” Loki replied, licking at his bloody lips. “I have no reagents or ingredients available for a cure.” Then his eyes narrowed accusingly and his words were spat out harshly. “And thanks to you, I have no magic left in me to cast.”

 

Thor stood to distance himself from the hurtful words and looked down at Loki. “We must find a way. Tony Stark is suffering because of us.”

 

Loki seemed to be cooperating, so Steve refilled the glass from the bathroom and returned . His anxiety was increasing when there seemed to be no ready solution to their current dilemma. Speaking of Tony, Steve looked over at the couch and saw it empty. "Damn it. Jarvis, where is Tony?”

 

“Sir is currently in the lounge with Dr. Banner. I worry for his well being.”

 

“Dr. Banner is here? Oh. Um, okay. Does he seem, well, not green?”

 

Loki was certain the Captain brought this about on purpose. At the mere mention of Banner's name, a roar rent their air from the beast within. Loki nearly scurried across the bed, Thor following around the foot of it, Mjolnir at the ready. Loki hoped that Thor would indeed speed them away through the window, over all of Manhattan, if need be. Right now would be fine. He cursed himself for the tremble noted in his hands and knees. He wasn't even dressed appropriately to face an enemy. Not that it would be any fight at all in his lame and weakened condition.

 

Damn Banner and Stark and the Captain. Damn them all.

 

Steve heard the tell-tale roar of the Hulk, and his stomach dropped into his boots. Before he even gave it a second thought, the Captain was racing out of the room into the lounge area.

 

There he saw an overturned chair, Tony lying on the floor, and the Hulk hovering over his prone form.

 

Steve really, really wished he had his shield.

 

Bruce's transformation back to human felt a lot like falling from a skyscraper onto cement. And the Other Guy gave him no warning again, same as the change a few seconds prior to this one. Bruce found himself sitting in a pile of tattered clothing, bare ass to Tony’s marble floor. This part never failed to be most embarrassing part of it all.

 

“And you wonder why I get angry at you for compromising your chemical make up?” he asked Tony.

 

Tiredly, Tony gave Bruce a one-fingered salute from his spot on the floor.

 

Bruce looked at Steve over his shoulder, giving a half-hearted wave.

 

“Hey, uh, I’m good. It’s okay,” Bruce said bashfully. He stood, trying his best to wrap his torn trousers around the lower half of his body. “Cap, can you check on Tony while I change, uh, clothes, that is."

 

Thankfully, he had the foresight to pack a change of clothes in his satchel. Sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt weren’t optimal, but it beat naked.

 

Steve could not help staring. It was like watching a train wreck. You just couldn’t look away. When he did realize he was staring at a very naked Bruce Banner, his cheeks pinked and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

 

“Right. Check on Tony.” He moved to where Stark laid on the floor. Steve crouched down and placed his arm behind Tony’s shoulders. “Are you alright?"

 

“I'm just peachy,” Tony said, gasping as he drew in a huge breath before starting to retch again. Finally, the spasms eased and Tony leaned back against Steve, panting shallowly to hold the nauseated feeling at bay.

 

“Come on, Tony. Let’s get you off the floor. I can take you back to the couch.” Steve carefully gathered the billionaire in his arms and stood up, alarmed that he didn’t even offer up a snarky comment about being toted around like a dame.

 

“Bed. I want to lie on my back in that hideously expensive monstrosity. If I’m gonna die, I’m going to at least be comfortable. There’s more than enough room. Not the first time I’ve had three in there,” Tony said faintly.

 

Ah, there it was, the patented Stark snark. Despite hearing words that caused Steve to roll his eyes, it made him feel better to see that the playboy was still coherent.

 

“Tony, you’re not going to die. Don’t talk like that. Bruce and Loki will figure something out. I’m sure of it.” Steve carried Tony back into the bedroom and carefully laid him on the huge bed. Tony immediately curled up on his right side on the edge of the bed.

 

Steve stepped back a little despite his need to hover near in case there was anything he could do.

 

When Thor heard Bruce’s voice again, he stepped half into the doorway, looking into the lounge.

 

“Is all well?” he asked, gripping Mjolnir tightly in his hand. He was ready to fly at any moment. Literally.

 

He watched warily as Steve brought Tony towards the bedroom. His intent was clear, so Thor stepped aside. He blamed sleep deprivation when he finally realized that Loki was now separated from him. But it was Bruce Banner that was the threat.  He felt no fear of Rogers or Stark. He did notice his brother edging towards the window. Amazing what adrenaline could do for the weak, when Loki could hardly move before.

 

Bruce approached too, pulling a t-shirt over his head and pushing up the sleeves.  Thor blocked the doorway and looked the man in the eyes. "Stark has given us sanctuary here. Can I trust you to respect that and not harm my brother?"

 

Bruce pursed his lips, scratched his head, and then shrugged. "I guess if you can trust Loki not to screw this up, then I'll say I trust the Other Guy likewise." He gave Thor what could best be described as a snarky smirk and walked past him. "We'll see who wins."

 

Thor watched the man walk into the room towards the bed. Loki was all but waving Thor over to him so he crossed the suite and stood beside his brother.

 

"Loki can help. What do you need," Thor said to all in the room.

 

Bruce spared the younger Asgardian a few seconds worth of attention. Clearly, Loki had seen better days. He remembered what Tony said about being a hostage and what he went through. Looking at Loki now, it made Bruce sick to think Tony went through anything similar. It was beyond Bruce's comprehension that such twisted evil could be done, but he'd seen it in other countries with his own eyes.  Faced with Loki's appearance, he now understood why Tony had said he'd help, but he didn't understand the stay part.

 

Bruce turned back to Stark's bed and set his mind toward the task. "Okay. What are we up against? Where did you discard whatever it was that you touched?"

 

Tony laid there and vaguely waved his arm towards the bedside trashcan. He then dropped his arm over his eyes, because really did the room have to be so freaking bright? “In there.”

 

Not knowing what else to do, Steve went back into the bathroom and wet a washcloth in the sink. He returned to the bed and gently moved Tony’s arm. He laid the cool cloth across his forehead. “Is that a little better?”

 

Tony slightly nodded his head and sighed. “Thanks Cap. It’s better than nothing at this point. Because I gotta tell ya, I feel like crap. So is somebody going to do something here or is it entertaining to watch me lie here and die?” Yes, a hurting Tony was a cranky Tony.

 

"Try surviving months of this," Loki muttered to Stark.

 

"Much has happened in Asgard," Thor explained. "A war has begun, I've led our soldiers into glorious battle, and Loki has suffered long in prison." He looked down at his brother, now sitting on the floor, malnourished and pathetic. "Which is why he's yet to properly care for his appearance, but he is still able to contribute to this solution."

 

Loki swatted at Thor's leg since chewing on it would appear quite infantile.

 

Bruce ignored most of the conversation. He bent to retrieve the trash bin and was horrified at his find. "Uh ,Tony? I can't imagine you'd touch this on purpose."

 

“Well I’m a mechanical engineer not a doctor so I didn’t even think about not touching the cords. I cut them off didn’t I?” Tony grumbled. “Besides, I was a little hung over at the time.”

 

Bruce walked the bin over to Thor, enjoying the fact that Loki recoiled as he approached. "Is this the poison?"

 

Thor blocked Bruce from getting much closer to Loki. He peered into the bin and frowned. The leather was all but unrecognizable. Black, inky slime now lay in the bottom of the can where the leather had been. "I don't understand. This was a leather cord enchanted by.--"

 

"Its origin does not matter," Loki said bitterly. "Only the result."

 

"Okay. So what is it?" Bruce asked Loki.

 

The Asgardian cleared his throat, wishing for that second glass of water. "It is a biological poison."

 

"Venom, toxin, or bacteria?"

 

"All of the above with the arcane thrown in for a bit of fun."

 

"Great." Bruce rubbed his chin and set the bin down on a night stand. "That's great. Because one would be too easy to counteract and the latter? I don't even know where to begin."

 

Loki smiled wryly. "Now you're understanding the gravity of the situation."

 

"Our healers know a way to clear it from our system," Thor reminded.

 

"Asgardian physiology," Loki corrected. "Stark is Midgardian, fragile and weak."

 

"Okay, your ego is not helping us." Bruce paced in front of the bed, eyeing Tony woefully. "There has to be something for his symptoms."

 

"Heat."

 

"Heat?" Bruce repeated, giving Loki a sideways glare. It made sense though. It might break up the poison and even draw it out. Or it could aggravate it and make things much worse. "Localized?"

 

"Yes."

 

Thor watched the exchange and wondered if Loki was actually enjoying himself. It was unusual for his brother to banter with another about this sort of thing - magic, science, whatever one would term it.

 

"Hey, Cap? Can you bring a warm washcloth in here too?" Bruce asked. "Tony, do you have any medical supplies? I need some things to help you out here."

 

Steve pulled his attention away from Tony and looked up. “Sure, a warm cloth, I can do that. Be right back in.”

 

Tony roused long enough to reply to Bruce. “Jarvis, have Dummy bring up the large medkit from the workshop and make sure Bruce has everything he needs. If I don’t have it here, order it. Bruce, I set up a lab for you too, right next to mine," he said with a teasing smile. "I guess it was a month ago. Always knew you’d come back. I have all the best toys.”

 

Tony’s smug expression fell flat as he grimaced in pain. He couldn’t help the urge to begin to scratch the irritated skin.

 

"Don't scratch," Cap reminded and pulled Tony's hand away from his arm. He looked at Loki, trying not to judge him for his past decisions. If he hurt Tony again...

 

"Kudos to the speed at which your bots move," Bruce said. He returned to the suite with a large medical kit. He dug through it and found an ACE bandage. "We're going to try heat," Bruce stated, locking eyes with Loki. "And if it doesn't help, we're all going to blame you."

 

Loki looked insulted. "That is completely unfair. I have little more information on this than I've given you."

 

"Loki is right." Thor defended. "He is sharing with you the knowledge he has from years of study and practice. This concoction is not of his doing. It is vile and was created by one master who holds the key to its cure."

 

"Someone's got to take responsibility," Bruce accused. "Tony, I'm going to give this a try. It works for many earthly poisons. We have to start somewhere." He laid the hot cloth against the angered flesh and waited.

 

Tony nodded and tried to keep from digging at his skin. He really hoped something worked soon. Otherwise he’d not be too proud to beg Bruce to either get him some strong alcohol or knock him the fuck out.

 

“Just do something,” he replied through gritted teeth.

 

Tony watched as Bruce laid the hot cloth across the inflamed weals. He hissed as the contact made the injuries flare up painfully. Just when he was about to tell Bruce to yank off the towel, the heat finally soaked in. The itchiness and throbbing started to abate, and Tony sagged gratefully into the mattress.

 

“Oh God,” Tony moaned, not caring at all what he sounded like. “It’s helping.”

 

Bruce exhaled, sharing a poignant look with Loki. He couldn't help notice Thor's relief as well. There was so much to this story that he still didn't understand, and he was interested in getting those details, but not until Tony was comfortable. "Can you hold this on Tony, Steve?"

 

Bruce returned to the medical kit and found some survival heat packs in the bottom. He broke them up and returned to Tony with another ACE bandage. Giving Cap the okay, he let Steve remove the washcloth that was already cooling. Bruce lightly wrapped Tony's hand and arm before distributing the packets evenly over the top so the heat wasn't too strong. He had Steve hold the heat packs against the bandage and did the same underneath. Then he wrapped Tony's hand and arm with the second ACE bandage until Tony looked like he was wearing an mitten that all the way up his arm. Sometimes medicine was just that way.

 

"We'll see if that works. If it does, and the symptoms become more tolerable, I'll give you your fingers back." Bruce understood the importance of five digits. Then again, a lot of what Tony did was supplemented by holographics and even his bots. So hopefully it wouldn't inconvenience Tony too much.

 

"What do you think about introducing an antiemetic?" he asked Loki.

 

"It could kill him," Loki replied with a shrug.

 

"Loki."

 

He looked up at his scolding brother and remembered his predicament. "It could cause any kind of reaction, introducing one poison to another."

 

"Wait. It is medicine, right?" Steve asked Bruce.

 

"Well, yeah," Bruce said, scratching the back of his neck. "But I think what Loki's getting at is that there's poison in everything. The air, the water," he said, pointing at the glass of water that found it's way to Loki's hand. "It is the dosage that makes is harmful to us or not."

 

He didn't know if Steve understood, but there were toxins in everything. It could drive a person crazy if they gave it too much attention.

 

"Tony? I can try to give you medicine for your nausea, but we aren't sure if it will react to what's screwing up your neurological system. What do you want us to do?"

 

Tony thought for a moment and remembered  something Pepper always gave him when he was hungover and she was feeling magnanimous. “Ginger ale? There’s some in the bar fridge.”

 

"Uh, Cap?" Bruce suggested. "Do you mind getting it? And Jarvis, how about we get some crystallized ginger in to try. Ginger soda is pretty lightweight for what we're tackling, but we'll start there."

 

“Dr. Banner," Jarvis replied, "I am more than happy to order anything you require. Might I also suggest visiting any number of homeopathic shops in the city? I can pinpoint their location for you. According to my research, they may have several effective anti-nausea remedies. However, the ginger you asked for shall be delivered within the hour.”

 

Steve vowed to stop jumping every time that disembodied voice offered help. Steve did, though, walk to the small refrigerator behind the bar and grab a can of the ginger ale. He opened the top and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

 

“Here Tony. Sit up a little.”

 

“Okay. Give me a minute.” Tony carefully levered himself into a reclining position and gratefully sank back down on the pillows Steve propped behind his back.

 

Steve held out the can and Tony took it with a shaky hand. He watched as Tony took several small sips.

 

Tony waited to see if the cold soda would stay down. When his stomach started to settle slightly, he took a few bigger drinks. Feeling more than exhausted, he handed the can back to Steve.

 

“God, I'm tired,” Tony murmured closing his eyes.

 

Steve took the can and set it on the table beside the bed. He looked at the other people standing in the room. It was more than a bit surreal. Never did he ever think to find Tony and Loki sharing a room. Even if the reason they were both in it was illness and fatigue. He hated feeling so helpless and at a loss as to what to do. He didn’t trust Loki at all, and he wanted more answers. The tactician in him screamed that something was not right with this situation at all.

 

Steve understood why Loki was punished, even if he thought the methods barbaric and cruel, but why did Thor feel the need to flee? To throw his princehood in jeopardy to harbor a war criminal, even if that criminal was his brother, or his adopted brother. Thor had also said something about a war in Asgard. That Thor would actually choose to leave his home in such a time of turmoil was unsettling too.

 

Steve wanted answers and he intended to get them.

 

"I would like to take my brother and rest," Thor announced. "If there is a place to do so. We are not adverse to the floor here or the loungers out in the receiving room."

 

Thor knelt down to where Loki sat against his leg, almost asleep. He tried to gather the lanky Asgardian in his arms but Loki protested, of course, making things awkward and less than smooth than they could have been.

 

"Excuse me, sir," Jarvis interrupted, "Miss Potts is calling."

 

Tony flinched at the announcement. Granted, they parted as friends, but he really didn’t want to try and explain everything to Pepper. That woman had scary powers of deduction. Tony would have thought voodoo but never would have suggested it to her face. Besides, he liked his junk in working order, thank you.

 

He groaned and fumbled for the phone on the bedside table. He cracked open one eye and flung the phone at Steve.

 

“Here you talk to Pep. I don’t have the strength. And you two...” Tony pointed a finger at Thor who was trying to move Loki. “There is no way I want you wandering off. Leave him here. I don’t bite, well unless someone wants me to. The bed practically has its own zip code. Make yourself comfy, and we’ll have a sleepover. Though if anyone tries to put braids in my hair, they get a repulsor to the head.”

 

Tony closed his eyes and tried to get some rest. He knew he was rambling and maybe making little sense but it was his house after all and they could all bloody well do what he wanted.

 

Steve fumbled in surprise at getting a phone suddenly tossed at him. He managed to catch it and held it up to his ear.

 

“Hello?” He said hesitantly. He’d only met Pepper Potts once and she seemed quite beautifully formidable at the time. He was not looking forward to covering for Tony.

 

Had the webcam been on, he'd have seen Pepper's eyebrow arch high.

 

"Steve?" She questioned, although she knew the answer. She wasn't Tony Stark's right hand and CEO of Stark Industries simply because she was gorgeous. "What's wrong? Where's Tony? He was supposed to join me for the web conference an hour ago."

 

"Uh, yes ma'am," Steve fumbled. He grimaced and looked at Tony, who wasn't helping at all. Damn him.

 

Pepper sighed heavily. "Is he passed out again?"

 

Steve thought desperately about what to say. “Yeah, he’s feeling a bit under the weather. Can I pass along any messages when he wakes up?”

 

There. That wasn’t exactly a lie was it?

 

Bruce nodded his approval of Steve's choice of words.

 

Pepper's dilemma was whether or not to believe Captain America. There was a lot of wiggle room in his statement. Pepper could think of four things right off the top of her head that could fit into that scenario: Alcohol, women, men, and gambling. She was betting on the first, only because Steve Rogers wouldn't balk at that as much as the others, and a little bit of her pride prevented the middle two from taking up much brain power. The last would've taken Tony outside of the building, and that didn't make sense since Steve was present in the Tower.

 

"Yes, please tell him Rhodey will be in town tomorrow." She tapped her pen on her desk, wondering how worried she should really be and if she should send Happy to check on him tonight. If he left now, he could make it to the Tower by dusk. "Steve, is he really okay?"

 

She hated herself for asking, but what would that say about her if she could just hang up? Every bone in her body told her something was not right - not dire, but just not right. And given their break up of whatever it was they had, the desire to protect Tony was far greater than her pride. Whatever amount that was when it came to Tony Stark.

 

Steve glanced over at the bed to see Tony frantically shaking his head. Damn, he hated lying, especially to a woman. “Ah, well, no he’s not okay, but we’re working on seeing that he will be.”

 

Shit. That came out all wrong, and he knew it did by Tony’s disgusted snort and one fingered salute from the bed.

 

Oh god. Pepper stood up from behind her desk and rubbed her forehead. This was exactly why she had to call things off with Tony. He was completely reckless and didn't think twice of harming himself for that short-term amnestic experience he was always searching for. She tried to take all his pain away, but it was akin to moving a mountain with a shovel. She just couldn't do it. Watching Tony self-destruct would certainly have killed one of them.

 

But she couldn't turn off the love she had for him. It would always be there. It just had to be managed.

 

She was really glad the webcam had not been on to show Steve Rogers her panic.

 

Pepper stood up straight and threw her shoulders back, took a deep breath and looked out the window behind her desk.

 

They were practically staging an intervention, for God's sake, but she had to let them be the ones to do it, whomever that may be.

 

"Steve, I'm trusting you to call if there is anything you need at all. We're used to Tony's issues, Rhodey and Happy and me. There is little that can shock us at this point, but please know that we're just a phone call away. Do you have our numbers? Jarvis can give them to you if you're not certain."

 

“Yes ma’am, I’ll do that. And thank you. I’ll make sure to call if anything changes.” Steve meant it too. If Tony, God forbid, took a turn for the worst, Miss Potts deserved to be told the truth.

 

He hung up the phone and turned to the bed. “Don’t do that again. Next time, you talk to her. Miss Potts deserves at least that much,” Steve said with a scowl.

 

Tony sighed and resisted the urge to squirm. It wasn’t easy to hold up under the patented Captain America glare of disapproval.

 

“Yeah sure, whatever.” Then he really tried to get some rest. Because this latest little addition to his shitty day make his head swim.

 

Thor managed to get Loki to the bed, half by his will and half by Loki's flailing resulting in some of his limbs on the mattress. Thor would've mocked his little brother for his childish behavior had he not been on the verge of falling asleep where he stood.

 

"Uh, no. That's not going to work," Bruce stated. "You can lay next to Tony, but not Loki."

 

Thor signed heavily. He was weary with this day. He was more exhausted than he remember being in the last century. And that said a lot. But, he did as was asked. He was a guest. And the beast inside Dr. Banner was staring at them from behind the man's eyes. Loki was already asleep, or appeared to be, so Thor grabbed the blanket from the bottom of the bed and draped it over his brother. It would be filthy, but Thor couldn't even fathom bathing Loki before rest. He only hoped everyone else was agreeable to it as well.

 

Bruce nodded when Thor looked at him for approval. He could tell Thor was down to his last nerve and they were all about to experience a Thor-sized diva freak out if one more thing prevented the Thunder God from resting, but the Hulk wouldn't shut up, trying to get Bruce to continue to goad Thor into a tantrum just for kicks.

 

"I'll be checking on you every few minutes," he told Tony. It was more of a threat to Loki's ears than a promise to Tony, because although the man did need to be followed closely, he could tell they were going the right direction. Tony was far more calm than he had been ten minutes ago. The redness had not spread any more and Tony's nausea was at least subsiding enough to let him sleep. He only hoped the fatigue wasn't another symptom of the toxin.

 

Steve hoped things were winding down for a bit. They all needed to rest and regroup. “Bruce,Tony said something about a lab. Maybe you can check that out or find something else to help Tony. Jarvis mentioned a shop you could try. I don't know if you've had a chance to rest since you flew in, maybe get some food first? It’s going to be a long day. I can stay and watch over everyone.”

 

Steve pulled up a wing chair near Tony’s side of the bed. He sat down with a sigh and prepared for a very long vigil. He couldn’t help worry about what was going to happen in the near future.

 

Bruce was grateful that Steve meant exactly what he said. Sitting beside Tony, guarding the vulnerable man, put Bruce's mind at ease. At least where Loki was concerned.

 

He walked over to Loki's side of the bed where he'd discarded the trash bin with the poisonous bindings. He took the can and paused, listening to the Hulk rage inside him, telling him how easy it would be to rid the world of Loki here and now.

 

But Thor was staring at him. How the Asgardian wasn't already passed out was a wonder, but somehow, Thor knew a threat was near. Bruce felt a twinge of respect for Thor for protecting his family. It would be nice to have someone like that, wouldn't it?

 

"If you're sure you're okay to keep watch," Bruce said to Steve, "I'd like to take this down to the lab and see what I can find out about it. I think Jarvis can show me where to go. He seems pretty resourceful."

 

Bruce checked Tony once again: his pulse, breathing, his arm, and also made sure the heat wasn't against the man's skin but instead the inner bandage. "I'm sure it doesn't need to be said, but watch his breathing. And don't turn your back on Loki. I still can't believe he's in the same room while Tony is so vulnerable. We must all be a little crazy."

 

“I think with Tony, crazy is kinda contagious," Steve said with with a knowing smile. "And yeah, I’m okay with watching them. I don’t need much sleep so I can make sure nothing goes wrong. I’m confidant that I can stop anything before it starts.”

 

At least Steve hoped he was.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

“You have heart.” Loki’s smooth voice echoed in Clint's head as the energy from the staff invaded his soul. Tendrils were worming their way into his mind, slowly seeking out each memory and experience. They were taking the essence of Clint Barton and twisting it, making him malleable to the Trickster God’s every whim.

 

They were turning Clint into a killing machine, a weapon without conscience.

 

All of this was taking place in and space of a few heartbeats.

 

Clint fought that alien energy with every fiber of his being, but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t have the strength. Still, he was able to shoot Fury in the chest, a place he knew the director’s body armor would protect him. He could have taken a headshot easily. It was one of Clint’s last actions of his own free will, one that later earned him a backhand from an irate god.

 

Barton spilled every detail about his relationship with Natasha Romanoff without emotion, secrets that she entrusted to him in rare moments of vulnerability, confessions that Loki cheerfully tried to use against the SHIELD agent. Clint had seen the video footage, hacked into SHIELD's servers, and watched every painful moment of the chaos he’d wrought. Natasha spoke of the red in her ledger. But in Clint’s? It was a never ending torrent.

 

Then with a stunning blow to the head, it was over. Clint’s mind was his again. Thank God Tasha’s hand-to-hand skills were better than his own, that she was literally able to knock some sense into him.

 

But was the taint gone? Sometimes Clint thought he felt that sickening slide of blue energy trying to subvert his will. Was it his imagination or were there some residual side effects?

 

Clint’s rest became uneasy. He curled into himself on the bed and moaned. Damn his subconscious for replaying his betrayal in Technicolor.

 

This time, the voice mocking him was low, rough, and alien. It grated on his ears and caused a cold sweat to break out across his body.

 

“You have heart? No, you were a pawn for us to exploit. You have no heart. You are weak and pathetic. This is how we reward failure.”

 

A clawed hand plunged into Clint’s chest, through muscle and bone and in a spray of blood, tearing his beating heart out and holding it up.

 

“This is what we think of your heart.” Then the vital organ was slowly crushed.

 

Clint thrashed and yelled, kicking and clutching his chest as he fell off the bed, landing with a bone jarring thud on the hard ground. His eyes snapped open and he tried to remember how to breathe.

 

Gasping for air, he frantically ran his hands over the unmarred flesh of his torso.

 

A dream… just a fucking dream.

 

“Well, I’ve seen more graceful landings,” commented a dry voice.

 

Not fully out of the dream, Clint lunged for his H&K P30 from under his pillow. He raised the gun and panted in the stillness of the room.

 

“Don’t make me hit you again, Barton.”

 

“Natasha, what the hell? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Clint gasped out into the darkness. With a huge sigh and a shaking hand, Clint thumbed the safety. He laid the gun down on the bed and ran his hand through his sweaty hair.

 

Natasha Romanov walked silently to the bed and sat down. She flipped on the bedside light and critically examined her partner. She knew Clint had been having trouble since the invasion of Manhattan. Frankly, she expected him to bolt long before now.

 

“Wh… what are you doing here?” Clint managed. His nightmare was still too close to the surface. He felt raw and exposed.

 

“I'm checking on you. Clint, you might have Fury and your psyche eval doctor snowballed, but you can’t fool me. What’s going on inside that head of yours?” Natasha patted the bed next to her as a cue for him to join her.

 

Clint got himself off the floor and went to the dresser. He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and joined her on the bed. It wasn’t that his nudity bothered either of them, but the archer was feeling vulnerable. He flopped tiredly on the mattress and laid his forearm across his eyes.

 

“Talk to me, Barton,” Natasha asked.

 

Clint felt an acute stab of pain at that phrase, one that belonged to someone taken from him during the invasion.

 

“I can still feel it you know? That… that sensation of everything sliding away. The energy or whatever the fuck it was invading every cell. Especially in here.” Clint’s other hand rested on his chest over his heart.

 

“It aches. My medical evaluation came back fine. No damage at all, or so they tell me. But it… it’s hard to breathe sometimes.”

 

Clint sighed in frustration.

 

Natasha rested her hand on top of his. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“What good would it have done? I’m being such a damn baby. I’m sure you wouldn’t still be whining.” Clint risked a glance at his partner.

 

Natasha frowned and then lightly smacked the archer upside his head.

 

“Hey! What was that for?” Clint protested.

 

“For being an idiot. Did you think any less of me the nights I spent retelling every reprehensible thing I’ve had to do? When I broke down and you were the one to pull me back from the brink? When some of the missions we’ve had left us damn near broken? We comforted each other Clint.” Natasha curled her fingers around Clint’s colder ones.

 

“I betrayed you, Nat. I told Loki everything. Things deep down I knew he would use against you,” Clint argued. He was not ready for Natasha’s forgiveness.

 

“He tried. I know the things I’ve done. Do you hate me for having done them? Do you judge me for lying and murdering?” Natasha looked right into Hawkeye’s tortured eyes.

 

“No! Of course I don’t blame you.”

 

“Then you have to stop blaming yourself Clint.”

 

“You know? There were times when I fought it, times I almost broke free. It got so bad. See this?” Clint raised his hand and pointed to a fairly new scar. A small red line on his chest.

 

Natasha traced the mark placed right over the archer’s heart.

 

“Sometimes, for just a moment, my mind belonged to me again. I knew it wouldn’t last. I could feel it creeping back in. I took one of my knives and tried to cut it out. As if gouging my own heart out would make it stop. I needed to make it stop. And Loki… I don’t know how he knew, but he came to where I was and he stopped me. I hated him for that,” Clint said with a shudder.

 

Natasha wrapped her arms around the shivering archer.

 

“You know what he told me? Loki said, 'You’ll never be free. They won’t let you go. It won’t let you go. I know this better than anyone.' And his eyes, Nat. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes - desperation, and I think, fear. Then he touched my deep cut and it closed up. I expected him to punish me, but he didn’t. He just left. That was right before we invaded the Helicarrier.” Clint hated to admit it, but at that moment of weakness, he could see his own haunted expression mirrored on the god's face.

 

“Even if that’s true, if Loki was being manipulated, he still attacked you, made you do things that nearly cost you your sanity. Again, you did nothing wrong. You have to believe me. I’ll say it as often as I have to until you believe it too.”

 

“Now the voices I hear in my dreams aren’t Loki at all. They belong to something else.” Clint whispered into the darkness.

 

“Shhhhh. Try and get some sleep. I’ll be right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Natasha lay back on the bed and pulled Clint against her side, resting the archer’s head on her shoulder. She idly ran her fingers through his hair, slowly petting Clint until she finally felt him relax against her and fall asleep.

 

Natasha breathed her own sigh of relief. He’d given her a lot to think about, questions she’d need to ask. But for now, she was content to guard the dreams of one whom she held dear.

 

~*~

 

For once, Clint slept relatively soundly. Just having someone he trusted nearby was the balm his soul severely needed. The archer woke first and blinked blearily in the dimness of the room. He glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. Almost 5 a.m. He’d have to get up in a few moments and open the diner. But for now, he simply studied the woman sleeping curled up by his side. Natasha was beautiful when relaxed. Her barriers were gone and the hard life she’d led erased from her face.

 

It wasn’t the only time they’d slept together, first by necessity, then by mutual attraction, which fizzled out quite quickly. The two assassins discovered they made far better friends than lovers. Now they sought solace with each other when the situation demanded it, taking comfort just by being able to totally let their guard down. Clint was profoundly grateful that his brief stint as Loki’s lackey hadn’t destroyed that bond.

 

Natasha had an admirable talent of being able to go from asleep to awake in seconds. She went from curled up at his side to staring up at Clint and frowning slightly. The archer knew from experience to stay still until Natasha took in her surroundings. If she thought it odd that Clint watched her sleeping she said nothing.

 

“What's the time?” Nat asked in a sleep roughened voice.

 

“Little before five. I have to be downstairs in a few minutes. You want some breakfast?” Clint rolled away from his bedmate and sat up.

 

“Sure, I could eat. Clint, have you thought about what you’re going to do?” It probably wasn’t wise to push Clint at this point but Natasha needed to know what he had planned in case she had to cover for the archer.

 

Clint dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t know.”

 

“Are you going back?” Nat placed a hand on his back.

 

“I… I’m thinking about just staying here.” Clint’s muffled reply sounded less than convincing.

 

“You don’t sound too sure about that.”

 

“Like Fury would let me on any team now. No one trusts me, Nat. I’ve seen the way the other agents look at me. I've heard how they talk. Do you think any of them would back me up in the field? Hell, some of them wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between my eyes.” Clint sighed in resignation.

 

He looked up in surprise when Natasha got up and began to pace the small bedroom. He couldn’t help but note the murderous gleam in her eyes.

 

“I’d like to see them try.” Natasha snarled. “Despite everything else, you helped save all their asses.”

 

“But I’m just kidding myself, right? SHIELD isn’t going to let me go. Compromised is compromised. If they can’t use me somehow, they’ll just drop me in a hole somewhere and forget about me.” Clint laughed ruefully.

 

“I won’t let that happen. Neither will the rest of them.” Natasha grabbed Clint’s chin and turned him to face her.

 

“Who, the Avengers? That lasted long, didn’t it? Why should they care? I’m just a guy that shoots arrows.” Clint tried to pull away but Natasha’s fingers dug in.

 

“Are we done with this pity party? I too hate that Coulson is dead and that you are such a mess over it, but you know what? You are alive. Don’t make Phil’s sacrifice mean nothing." Natasha gentled her grip as her fingers cupped his jaw. "Fight this, Clint. Get back what you lost. I know you. You’re stronger than this.”  

 

“Phil's sacrifice? It was a slaughter! What was he thinking, taking on Loki alone, and with an experimental weapon? That's what strength is, that's courage. I'm not strong, Nat, not at all. I did my job because someone believed in me. Coulson believed in me when no one else did. But I can’t give it up… the hunt. What the hell else am I good for? Yeah sure, I could stay here, but I would go stir crazy within six months. Fuck, I hate this. I totally fucking hate this!”

 

Clint did his best not to flinch when Natasha grabbed him in a crushing hug, which he was sure would surprise the hell out of most anyone. But to those Natasha held dear, she didn’t keep her emotions in check. The archer relaxed after a moment and sunk into her arms, taking comfort in her soft words spoken in Russian.

 

After a few long minutes, Natasha looked at Clint. “I believe someone promised me breakfast? I heard the food here was good. Do you know the cook by chance?”

 

She smiled softly at her partner and was rewarded with a genuine one in return.

 

~*~

 

Steve looked up from playing with his phone when he heard a noise from the bed, kind of a pained grunt. He turned off his game of Angry Birds, and darn Natasha for getting him hooked in the first place. Over the last several hours, he watched Thor gradually take over most of the sleeping area, laying on his stomach with one arm thrown over his brother and the other amusingly enough wrapped around Tony. His legs were splayed out, and the Thunder God snored loudly. It was amazing that Tony didn’t even wake up, as he was currently being used as a cuddle toy for the large Asgardian.

 

The noise, though, came from the opposite side of the bed. He was being observed by a pair of bright green eyes that were slightly more alert than the last time they were open. Truth be told, that appraising stare unnerved Steve a little.

 

As far as humans go, Loki thought Steve Rogers to be a handsome man. He had the love of his people and was made into a legend for his sacrifices for them. But why? Loki had done more in his youth than this man had done in his entire lifetime. Still, there was that sincerity that oozed out of Rogers and represented all that was good and righteous.

 

Loki remembered Rogers' strength and conviction when he met the Captain that night outside of the museum in Stuttgart.  The soldier was a physical fighter.  Loki was used to dealing with that kind of strength and aptitude.  He grew up in its shadow, always on the wrong side of it. But it made Loki clever, and he developed other ways to best a physically-superior opponent.  

 

He was confident he could manipulate the Captain with the facade of an obedient prisoner, both meek and remorseful.  Loki told himself he could do this while his strength returned. He already felt worlds better, now that the poison was slowly leaving his body, and that was even before a bath.

 

As the silence grew, Loki longed to return to his rest, but he was never comfortable with someone watching him sleep. Certainly not an enemy. This one was too noble to attack him while his guard was down, but it was still unnerving. And now that the fog in his mind was starting to clear, he needed to plan his next move.

 

Steve cleared his throat, wondering what to say. Loki had to be thirsty still and hungry. Then he could ask all the questions that had been nagging at him since he arrived. Maybe Thor would wake for food so they could all figure out what to do.

 

“Uh,you want something to drink? I could get you some water or food even?” Steve pulled his feet off the bed from where he had them propped up. The chair he sat in was becoming slightly uncomfortable so he stood up. Needing to do something, he retrieved the glass from the table and waited.

 

Loki's stomach rolled, but it wasn't in want of food. The mention of it still turned his stomach. The water, however, did sound divine. Loki remembered the captain waiting on him before, and yes, he would admit he liked the idea of America's hero as his servant.

 

"Yes," he finally said. It was a faint sound, unfortunately, lacking Loki's usual tone of arrogance. It sounded weak to his ears, weaker than he felt. "I would like some water, if you don't mind."

 

“About fucking time you agreed to his offer," Tony muttered, voice deepened by deep sleep. "You were thinking so loud over there it was giving me a headache. And can someone please tell me why I’m being slowly smothered to death by a large handsy blond?”

 

Tony tried to shove Thor’s arm off of him but it was like trying to move a tree trunk.

 

Loki rolled his eyes. He'd hoped to avoid more interaction with Thor's friends - why was he always surrounded by Thor's friends?  He was certain their intention was to deliver him back to SHIELD and Nick Fury's devices.  He could deal with that, but not in this weakened state. He still needed protection from another incarceration involving torture, so he pinched Thor just above his hip bone. Hard.

 

Thor flinched, raise his arm, and had Loki by the wrist before his eyes were fully open. "Loki," he whined, as if this was something that happened often. "Will you ever stop doing that?"

 

"No. It has always been exceedingly effective," Loki said, rather bored with the question. "I need a bath."

 

"You need a bath," Thor deadpanned, narrowing his now-opened eyes. "And I suppose you want me to draw it for you, little brother? Would you like to play with your toy boats as I wash you?"

 

"Forgo the boats but do draw my bath," Loki replied elegantly. He sighed heavily and then stated, "You need to get up. Your host is awake and you're being very rude by intruding on his personal space. I don't know if he'd accept your affections or not."

 

Thor frowned and followed Loki's gaze to Tony. He was almost face to face with the Man of Iron.

 

"Stark," Thor beamed, as if they'd just met on the battlefield after victory, "How does this morning find you?"

 

"Tis still daylight, Thor" Loki muttered under his breath.

 

“Well, let’s see: I’m a prisoner in my own bed, although that’s not necessarily a bad thing. But I didn't think you were that kind of god. I itch. I have a headache that could fell an elephant, and I need to take a piss. So if you wouldn’t mind, Cuddles?” Tony tried again to move Thor’s arm. He supposed that there were worse things than waking up almost nose to nose with Thor. Right now, he was feeling a little claustrophobic.

 

Steve fetched the promised water and even dug out a crystal pitcher from behind the bar. He filled it as well and left it on the table. He really needed answers from Thor and his brother but until everyone was awake and comfortable he’d just have to wait.

 

“Jarvis, can you tell Bruce that Tony is awake? We ought to see about getting some food too.”

 

“Hey J? Order from Liebman’s deli, would you? I have this sudden craving for their matzo ball soup. Oh, order enough for everyone. A couple of gallons should be enough. If Thor and Steve are hungry though, better include six or so of their pastrami sandwiches with the works."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"I get the bathroom first boys. Ownership has its privileges and all that. I do have other bathrooms of course, but I’m not sure I want you wandering all over the tower. Okay, Thor enough with the bro-hug already.” Tony ineffectually poked Thor’s brawny arm.

 

Thor removed his arm from Stark's chest and scooted off the bed. He stood and stretched his arms overhead, making all sorts of noises of pleasure while doing so. "Yes, I would like to partake in your gracious offer of sandwiches. I am quite fond of these delis and shops that offer 'quick food'."

 

"Fast food," Loki corrected.

 

He put his hands on his hips and faced Loki. "So in all your time plotting to take over Midgard, you also had the mind to learn its colloquialisms?"

 

Loki's brow shot up to his hairline. "Yes, I did."

 

Thor grinned and turned to Steve, but there was bite in his statement: "He thinks my mind is full of naught but muscle, simply because I can rip him apart with my bare hands."

 

His smile faded and he fixed Loki with a stare. "You speak boldly for someone in your predicament, little brother. Have care in how you speak."

 

Steve honestly didn’t know what to think. He was trying to rationalize in his mind the war criminal known as Loki and the Asgardian in the bed in front of him. He seemed so unlike the manic and unhinged godling determined to rule.

 

"Looks like some things never change," Bruce mumbled to Thor and Loki as he entered the room.

 

"Jarvis alerted me that you'd awakened," he said to Tony. "I changed the heat packs on your arm before they cooled too much. The redness has actually evened out, but more importantly, it hasn't spread. I had time to go to a couple apothecaries with Jarvis' help, and we got a few things to try if you're still nauseated. Also, there are some natural remedies for the itching if it's still bothering you."

 

“Okay, peeps. Entertain yourselves, cause I really need to go to the little boy’s room. “ Tony sat up carefully and waited for the inevitable vertigo. He tried to not let it affect him too much. “Yeah, I’m up, Bruce. And hey, thanks for the first-class doctoring. I must have really been out of it to not notice. Appreciate it, really. I think I’m feeling a little bit better.”

 

"Are you still dizzy? One of us can uh, you know, help you to the en suite if you need." He felt a little self-conscious telling Tony Stark he'd walk him into the bathroom where said man could relieve himself. Yes, he was a doctor, but this was Tony Stark -- Mr. Fuck-You-I-Invented-Independence. And a couple of very manly men were listening in. But they were both soldiers who had probably been put in situations where they'd done exactly that for others, if not more.  

 

One glance at Loki and one was reminded that Thor had most likely been the one to take care of that nasty mess and still would since, certainly, none of them were going to do it.  

 

But this was Tony, supposedly, his one and only friend. Bruce was already standing a foot away from the man, available if Tony was overconfident and the world spun wildly, regardless of what the brilliant-minded Iron Man believed.

 

Tony made a flapping motion with his hand. “I’m okay, really. Learned  to walk when I was a baby. Thanks though, Bruce. I get it with all the caring and concern. I just, well, wanted to say thanks.”

 

He did too. Usually, the billionaire was surrounded by hangers on and lackeys, people who were either paid to care or wanted something in return. He patted Bruce on the shoulder and didn’t miss the slight flinch. Sad really that one of the kindest and smartest men Tony had ever met, his alter ego notwithstanding, was not used to being casually touched.

 

Tony made his way to the en suite and took a minute to stare into the mirror. Well, he didn’t look much worse than if he’d gone on a weekend binge: dark circles under the eyes, pale complexion, slight shaking in the extremities. Fuck, Tony thought. He hated being sick. Frankly, the thought that he had some kind of freaky Asgardian poison running roughshod through his system scared the shit out of him.

 

Only him, he could hear Pepper saying in his head. This time she would be right.

 

Tony unwrapped his arm and looked at the angry red marks. They still itched but it was not the flay-your-skin-off-type of reaction. The heat really seemed to help, but Tony could only wonder for how long. He just didn’t feel right, and Tony didn’t like being laid up.

 

He stripped off his frankly gross clothing, dropping them into the hamper. Pepper had ingrained that habit into the billionaire, along with never leaving the toilet seat up.

 

“Jarvis, turn on the shower, all jets one hundred and twenty degrees.”

 

“Sir, I feel I should warn you that is borderline scalding.”

 

“Just do it, okay? Anything to help with the itching.” Tony’s skin was tingling and he was afraid it would start up that god awful itching again.

 

“Very well, sir.”

 

Soon the large cubical was full of steam. This indulgence, big enough for five people really, was a luxury Tony  reveled in. With all the injuries he sustained on a regular basis as Iron Man or just working in his lab, the hangovers and bouts of insomnia, Tony would rather give up one of his cars than this shower.

 

Tony stepped in with a groan and let the heated water cascade over him. He tipped his head back and braced his hands on the wall. Then Tony reached out to the soap dispenser and a palm full of rich body wash filled his hand. He carefully soaped the welts and hissed at the sting. Taking his time, Tony washed off the stink of several days.

 

Finally feeling somewhat light-headed, Tony regretfully ordered the water off. He grabbed a large towel from the heated rack and dried himself. He couldn’t decide whether the nausea was from lack of food or symptoms of the poison. Tony slung another towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom. He paused in the bedroom.

 

“Bathroom’s free, if anyone else wants to use it. Tell Jarvis to turn on the shower for you and what temp you want it. Soap and shampoo are in the built in dispensers in the shower. Ask Jarvis if you have any questions.” Then Tony turned and went into the dressing room.

 

Steve felt extremely awkward as he waited for Tony to get out of the shower. He figured they could all get comfortable and eat before he asked Thor all the questions he had about their departure from Asgard. Also, he could not help staring as Tony strolled out of the bathroom. He took in the pale skin and the scratches that marred the billionaire’s arm. Even so, Tony was someone who deserved a second glance.  The light from the arc reactor highlighted Tony’s muscled torso. Steve flushed uncomfortably and finally looked away. He’d seen many naked men during his stint in the service. Modesty was pretty nonexistent in a lot of situations. But there was something about Tony that he could not seem to tear his eyes away from.

 

“I… I’ll go and wait for the food and bring it up when it gets here. Then we all really need to talk.”

 

Loki got to his feet slowly, but he managed. The thought of getting clean was worth the pain in his joints and muscles.  He didn’t straighten out entirely, much like an old crooked tree. Thor stepped beside him.

 

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, and Loki pretended he wasn’t leaning on Thor for support.  Slowly, they headed towards the steam pouring out of the washroom.

 

Thor followed his brother’s eyes to Tony Stark as the man crossed the bed chamber towards his dressing room. He tugged on Loki a little harder, pulling his attention away.

 

Stop it, Thor’s look said.

 

Make me, was Loki’s smirk.

 

When the Asgardians were inside the bathroom and the door was closed, Bruce looked up at the ceiling. “Jarvis? Make sure to douse Loki with ice cold water every now and then. I want all of Manhattan to hear him shriek.”

 

“Understood,” Jarvis replied. He sounded more than happy to oblige.  

 

Bruce paced into the lounge area. He had to talk to Tony about the data he'd begun to compile about the toxin, or what remained of it. In the back of his mind, he knew Loki should be a part of that conversation, but how to do so without first unleashing the Hulk on Tony's penthouse, and second, trusting anything that came out of Loki's mouth. The situation was unquestionably the most bizarre thing imaginable. Well, at least in the last few months.

 

And he didn't want to hover over Tony, but the man really shouldn't be alone right now. He could relapse, fall, concuss himself. And what a waste of brain cells to lose some to being knocked unconscious.

 

So Bruce paced some more and wondered where Steve went. He was slightly less awkward than Bruce but far better than his own thoughts.

 

Somewhere in his mind, Hulk conjured an image of dangling a naked Loki out the window of Stark Tower.

 

They both found it amusing.

 

Thor emerged from the washroom smiling, leaving the door only partially closed to preserve some of Loki's privacy. His hair was wet on his shoulders and beads of water still clung to him. The towel slung around his hips reached mid thigh. He searched for his Midgardian team mates and caught movement in the hall and went to explore. "Dr. Banner? Are there any spare clothes that we can borrow? My brother and I arrived in mere rags and I wish to fit in a bit more with your Midgardian fashion."

 

Jarvis took the liberty to lend his assistance.

 

“I have been instructed to order in anything you might need. I can scan you for approximate size and have the clothing delivered within a few hours. Just let me know your clothing preferences. There are robes that sir keeps on hand for guests. I’ll have two sent up immediately.”

 

"Thank you," Thor said. "Seeking atonement while naked never worked well for me."

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter for Christmas! Enjoy!

Tony walked to the far corner of the dressing room where he stored his  ‘can’t bear to throw them out’ clothes. He was going for comfort over style. Digging through the organized shelves, he picked out a pair of extremely well worn jeans. The knees were pretty much gone and there was a hole just below the back right pocket. Faded to a soft blue, they were Tony’s favorite. He pulled them on over his now dry skin. A long sleeved white henley was next. The brushed cotton instantly drove the chill away. Finally, Tony chose a black concert t-shirt.  Emblazoned across the front were the faded words Nazareth and then a winged skull and below that was the name of the tour ‘No Mean City’. There was what appeared to be a burn hole near the hem at the bottom and one sleeve was slightly ripped.

 

Tony ran his hands through his thick, wavy hair. He pushed it off of his forehead and ran his tongue over his teeth. Eww, definitely furry. Wanting to get rid of the morning breath, Tony left the dressing room and turned back down the short hallway.

 

Since the bathroom door was open, Tony didn’t think twice about going right in. The sight that greeted him stopped the billionaire in his tracks.

 

Loki heard the Midgardian's approach. Had his magic been accessible, he’d have pushed the door closed and made sure no one would disturb him. And this one most certainly would.

 

Lounging in the oversized spa tub was Loki. His lean frame nearly stretched the length of the tub. His head was tipped back against the edge, and Loki’s now-long hair was slicked back against his scalp. The god’s eyes were closed in apparent bliss as the fragrant steaming water nearly covered him. Tony sniffed at the scent. Lavender and lemon? Ah, he’d found Pepper’s stash of bath oil.

 

Loki acknowledged that this washroom was akin to his own bath chamber in the palace in Asgard. It was designed for royalty, that much he could glean. That Stark thought himself royalty was something he’d have to explore. He’d heard much from Barton. However, what was public opinion was often quite different from the person behind closed doors.

 

Still, in this man's Tower, it was the first time in many months that Loki could truly relax. And he did so without hesitation. Thor scoffed a few times about taking advantage of their host.  Loki argued it would free Thor from holding him upright in the shower. They could both relax for a short while. In the end, Thor caved, of course.  He reluctantly helped Loki into the tub and filled it with hot water followed by the luxurious oils Loki had found after snooping.

 

And there he remained long after Thor had washed and dried himself and no doubt left in search of large amounts of food. His brother’s phenomenal metabolism and ability to consume enough to feed a dragon never failed to flabbergast him.

 

No, Loki was quite content to lounge in the bath and rest his weary bones. If only this particular human came with a muzzle. Loki opted for ignorance in hopes Stark would backtrack in the name of modesty and leave him in peace.

 

But Tony didn’t feel the least bit ashamed of getting an eyeful. Even in Loki’s  diminished state, he could see the clearly defined, lithe muscles and strength inherent in the god’s wiry torso.

 

Down boy, Tony muttered to himself. Damn him for always gravitating to the ‘bad boy’. This lack of judgement, or as Rhodey called it, thinking with his dick, caused Tony more than a few problems. Including bar fights, nights in jail, and lawsuits.

 

But it was his bathroom after all, and damn if he was going to get chased out by a guest. Besides, this one had the toothpaste he liked.

 

“Don’t mind me, tall, dark and enticingly-wet god in my tub. I’m just going to brush my teeth.”

 

Yup, Tony thought, he must be delirious. Flirting was such an abysmally bad idea, and one most likely to bite him on the ass.

 

Oh. How unexpected, Loki thought.

 

In his youth, he’d called it flirting. Now, he viewed it as a door to exploitation and manipulation.

 

Oddly, it made him uncomfortable. A frown marred his contented face. What could Stark possibly want from him, unless it was to mock his current pain and trials? Loki opened his eyes, expecting a charade. Instead, the man was cleaning his teeth with vigor, no disdain apparent.

 

This Midgardian continued to be a mystery in many ways.

 

“Barton said you had a masochistic streak in you,” he commented, studying Tony with intense eyes. He sat up and pressed the matter. “I believe last we were alone, we tried to kill one another. Do you find that more or less appealing than my physique?”

 

Tony spit his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and rinsed. He placed his toothbrush back in the holder and critically examined himself in the mirror. Yup he still looked like crap. Oh well...

 

Tony turned to view the now sitting-up god. Despite his initial appraisal, Loki still looked ready to fall over, but it was a vast improvement over mostly dead.

 

“Yeah, I remember that. Not too fond of the whole being knocked through the window to fall to my death meeting. But then, who am I kidding? You’re not the first person who has tried to kill me. Some of them I’ve even dated. Masochist? Probably. Poor judgement? Definitely. I look at it this way though. You’re stuck here. I’ve got some kind of freaky poison wreaking havoc in me and any answers about it have to come from you. So I can play nice if you can. Capice? If not? Well, I can always put the armor on and kick your ass.” Tony grinned and leaned against the sink.

 

If Loki expected a cocky bastard, Tony was more than happy to oblige. Besides this could be fun… in a Russian roulette kind of way. But hey, it beat the hell out of boredom. Anything to get him out of the deep funk he’d fallen into.

 

“Intriguing that you hold your person in such reckless regard,” Loki said, quick to mirror Stark's grin. It was nice to find an intrepid adversary in wit and words. “I suppose I am vulnerable right now, but in harming me, you would only be harming yourself. As you said, I hold the answers to your health and wellness.”

 

Loki reclined in the bath again, still smirking. “Yes, it appears we both need something from one another, Stark. I need time to recuperate without the threat of SHIELD or certain sovereign bodies seeking my demise. You need my knowledge to survive the contaminate which is merely being held at bay by your Midgardian countermeasures. But they won’t last long. Odd that we find ourselves in such a position, no?”

 

“Well, odd positions seem to be my specialty. But yeah, it appears we need each other, although I must say it seems to be a tad weighted in your favor. You're a top aren't you? Need to be in charge? I can see that."

 

"Oh, you have no idea." When Stark spoke of dominance in an intimate manner, Loki’s laughter bubbled out of him. It startled even him. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this amused. No, his incarceration hadn’t improved much, and he was still a wanted criminal in several realms, but at this moment, he was clean, more comfortable than he’d been in a while, and quite entertained indeed.

 

He just needed to maintain the upper hand and all would go accordingly.

 

"So what now? You languish and regain your strength while I slowly waste away? Not going to happen. I think we need to have a little chat. So by all means enjoy the bath, and when you’re ready with those explanations, we'll be waiting in the kitchen. Or I could just stand here all day and entertain you.”

 

"I'm starting to think you could," Loki answered with a seductive rumble of amusement and coy tilt of his head.

 

“My brother needs no entertaining,” Thor affirmed, scowling at Loki from the doorway. He entered and walked over to the bath tub.  Grabbing Loki by his arm, he hoisted him up out of the water.

 

The genuine and unexpected laugh from Loki was like a punch to the gut. Tony could feel Pepper’s disapproving glare already. Damn his conscience for emulating her.

 

But before he could say another word, Thor walked in and merely manhandled Loki out of the bath. Tony didn’t resist getting the full monty from the God of Chaos. Although if Thor caught him staring, he might not need that cure for the poison after all.

 

“Unhand me at once!”

 

“Stop whining,” Thor commanded. He held up the robe in front of Loki after his brother stepped onto the cool tile. “Will you force me to make apologies for you or will you live up to your once-princely station?"

 

Loki rolled his eyes. “Oh come now, Thor. We were just having a bit of fun, were we not, Stark?”  

 

He glanced over his shoulder while Thor pulled his wet hair out from the neckline of the thick robe. Loki wrapped one side of fabric over the other and then handed the cloth tie to Thor, expecting him to complete the task.

 

Thor narrowed his eyes, but he did wrap the closure around Loki’s waist. The vigor to which Thor tied the knot was overdone and caused Loki some immediate pain. Lastly, he tossed a towel over Loki’s head. “Dry your own hair, little brother. I refused to aid you when you’re acting like a rock troll. I am sorry, Tony Stark, for his insolence. He needs to remember his place.”

 

Tony thought this banter between Thor and Loki was so unlike their last meeting. He'd seen the footage from Jarvis, the aggressive fight and Thor’s anguished pleas during the invasion. It would have seemed impossible for them to mend that rift and end up here in his penthouse acting, well, like siblings. Maybe Loki truly hadn’t been himself at all.

 

It was a story Loki would have to tell and one that Tony had to hear.

 

“Well, it seems you have everything under control in here, Thor. I’ll just, yeah, check and see if the food has arrived.”

 

He could not help the smirk on his face as Thor acted the older protective brother.

 

Tony risked one more look at Loki, and while whistling innocently, he went back out into the penthouse. Judging by the muted conversation he could hear, everyone seemed to be in the kitchen.

 

~*~

 

Jarvis helpfully informed Steve that the food had arrived. He instructed the Captain to pick it up in the lobby and that the bill had been paid via credit card. The smells coming out of the bags were amazing and reminded Steve of his home neighborhood. He was also intercepted by a pretty young woman with a couple of robes folded over her arm. She looked familiar but Steve could not place her name.

 

“Ah are you heading up to the penthouse too?” Steve scrutinized the pretty brunette.

 

The woman held out her hand. “Darcy Lewis. I’m the new temp. Tony said I could chase away all the solicitors and reporters if he gave me lobby duty. I’m a friend of Thor’s.”

 

Steve juggled his bags and smiled warmly as he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you I’m--”

 

“Oh, I know who you are," Darcy said with a bright smile. "Let me tell you, What is it with this place? It is just oozing prime examples of grade-A man. Jarvis asked me to bring these robes up here.”

 

Steve couldn’t help it. He blushed under her blatantly-appraising stare. He had to pull his hand from her over eager grasp but he did so gently. "Ah, thank you? I think?”

 

Darcy’s grin remained in place as she popped her gum. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t bite. But I pack a mean taser.”

 

Steve was more than a bit relieved when  the elevator doors opened.

 

Carrying the loaded sacks, Steve stepped out of the elevator back into the penthouse suite. He deposited the bags on the kitchen counter and walked into the bedroom, Darcy following along behind. Steve heard a low whistle as she took in the lavish digs.

 

Once inside the door, Steve almost bumped into Thor, who stood in nearly all of his godly glory, just a towel struggling to span his broad body. Steve rolled his eyes. What was it about Tony’s penthouse that encouraged nudity? Oh wait… just the fact that it was Tony’s penthouse seemed to explain everything.

 

Steve glanced over at Dr. Banner, half expecting him to be sans clothing again too. He was relieved when he found the scientist quite clothed.

 

“Ah, food’s here," he said, after clearing his throat. "I'll put it in the kitchen. Also, Miss Lewis brought some robes up. I’ll just wait in the living area.” Steve retreated from the mostly-naked Asgardian and wished more than once he had the ability to get drunk.

 

"Darcy Lewis," Thor bellowed. He bent low and wrapped the woman in his arms to pick her up off the floor. He held her against him in a show of affection before returning her feet to the marbled floor. "It is good to see you again."

 

Darcy squeaked as all the air was forcibly expelled from her lungs. She couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on the blond banquet for the senses in front of her, shaking her head at Jane’s luck at snagging such a fine piece of real estate. “Looking good, Thor! What brings your mighty fine bod here to Midgard?”

 

"Uh, well," Thor hesitated at the  question, looking at Banner, who just shrugged and left him to his own devices. Clearly, the doctor was still upset about Thor's traveling companion.

 

Darcy held out the robes wondering why she needed two extra large ones. Tony was nowhere to be seen, and besides, he had his own extensive wardrobe right here. Darcy knew for a fact since one of her jobs was to pick up his dry cleaning. Maybe one of Thor’s buff warrior friends came for a visit too. Although what they were all doing holed up in Stark’s penthouse, she had no idea.

 

Orgy, maybe? Well, a girl could always dream. Darcy then noticed the other person in the room leaning unobtrusively against the wall. “Oh hey, Dr. Banner. Nice to see you again.”

 

"You too," Bruce said to Darcy. A smile danced across his face, even though he tried very hard to hide it. He wandered into the kitchen, glancing up at Thor in eager anticipation of the explanation he was going to offer Darcy.

 

"I am here because... well, it is more of... you could almost call it 'family matters'," Thor finally settled on. "Yes. I am here to reconcile my brother's transgressions against the people of Midgard."  

 

Thor looked at Jane Foster's best friend for a few long moments, hoping she'd be content with his answer. Then he spotted the robes in her arms. "Ah! Thank you for bringing these to me. I shall go change."

 

He had never run from a woman before. Well, that wasn't true. Sif was as mean as a Marmoran sea serpent when offended. And then there was the Allmother... even Odin had run from Frigga a few times.  Sometimes, escape was best to avoid further confusion. It was a noble gesture, he told himself.

 

He sighed to himself, blaming Loki yet again for another uncomfortable situation. His brother's deliverance had already caused such a disturbance. Loki best live up to the expectations the future promised. If he didn't, well, Thor would kill him.

 

Darcy watched with suspicion as Thor beat a hasty retreat. Atone for his brother’s transgressions? She had no idea why he should feel the need to fix that. Did Jane even know Thor was here? SHIELD still had the diminutive astrophysicist stashed away. Darcy knew though that Jane would not want to miss seeing Thor again. So, she vowed to keep an eye on things, at least until someone threw her out, and she followed Bruce into the kitchen area.

 

Darcy knew the layout of Stark’s kitchen better than he did. So she began to get out plates, cups and silverware, then she opened the bags.

 

Darcy was extremely grateful to Pepper for giving her the chance to spy, i.e., manage her ex-boyfriend/boss. Hopefully, the temp position would become a permanent one. PA to Tony Stark would be her dream job. There was little chance the billionaire would chase her off. She was used to crazy. Look at what she went through with Thor. After that bugfuck craziness, nothing Tony could come up with could top that.

 

Besides, Tony was more fun to work for. And fuck SHIELD and Maria Hill for suggesting she even consider reporting to them about Stark’s actions. She was no snitch for the establishment. Besides, Fury made her want to bang her head against the wall with his holier-than-thou demeanor.

 

She noticed Bruce watching her curiously. That man was just too adorable for words.

 

Despite only meeting Bruce the one time, Darcy had to try very hard to resist the urge to hug the guy. He looked like he had too few hugs in his life. Out of all those assembled in Tony’s penthouse, she figured Bruce would probably be the only one to give her a straight answer.

 

“So Bruce, what gives? Why does everyone look so guilty? Because I gotta tell you, Thor sucks at hiding things, and where is Tony anyway? Pepper is going to be pissed if he went on another binge.”

 

Steve was torn… should he follow Bruce and Darcy into the kitchen or check on Tony. How long did it take to get dressed, anyway? Since Thor disappeared back into the bedroom, there was no way Steve was going to just walk in on him. He was sure that Thor would see that Tony was all right, that his brother hadn’t done something despicable to the billionaire. Just the thought of Loki and Tony in the same room together was enough to give him a migraine… if he could still get them that is.

 

So kitchen it was.

 

Steve got into the room just as Darcy tried to grill Dr. Banner about what was going on. The Captain knew about keeping secrets, and as nice as Miss Lewis was, her ability in that department was highly doubtful.

 

“Ah, Miss Lewis, thanks for delivering the robes but we can manage things from here.” Steve resisted backing up a few steps as Darcy approached.

 

She stopped a few inches in front of Steve. Her finger quite sharp as she poked him in the chest. “No way, pal. Something is going on here. Thor is back and no one outside of this room seemed to know that. You all are hiding something, and I trust Tony as far as I can throw him. So what’s up? Don’t make me get my taser.”

 

Darcy frowned at Captain America. Not an easy feat.

 

Steve raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Really, Miss Lewis. It is none of your business. You’d be better off back at your desk in the lobby.”

 

Darcy backed away a bit and hopped up to sit on the edge of the counter. She swung her legs and smiled. “Nope, no way, not leaving. Either I stay or I use my phone here. Did you know I have Director Fury on speed dial? I think he’d be very interested to know Thor is back.”

 

Not that Darcy would really ever call him, but it was a lovely threat.

 

Despite being somewhat impossible, Steve felt the twinge of an imminent headache. Darcy Lewis made him want to grind his teeth in frustration.

 

“Dr. Banner? You talk some sense into her. I give up.”

 

Darcy wished she could get a picture snapped with her phone before it was taken away, because Captain America was actually pouting. It was beyond adorable!

 

“Oh come on. I can help, really. Just tell me what’s going on.” Darcy popped her gum and waited.

 

Bruce watched the exchange between the dauntless Miss Lewis and floundering Captain America. He had to give it to the woman, she wasn’t backing down, and there were some hard hitters in the room, present company included.

 

But Cap seemed at a complete loss. He might have won if he wasn’t as afraid of her mouth, breasts, and vagina – in that order –  as Bruce was.

 

They were honestly the biggest group of misfits Bruce had ever seen.

 

He selected a pickle slice out of one of the sandwiches and chewed on it while thinking of how to word his reply.

 

He could tell Darcy was on Tony’s side, which was also Pepper’s side. Also, if she was Thor’s friend, which clearly she was by Thor’s gregarious welcome, then she could probably be trusted. Tony wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t trustworthy.

 

Still, she was stationed in the front lobby, not any closer to Stark, and there was probably a reason for that too. Trust was something built gradually not granted immediately, even through a trusted reference. So while Bruce could’ve taken his reply in a more forthcoming and enlightening direction, he had to use Darcy Lewis against herself.

 

In the end, it was for their protection, and hers as well.

 

“Um, Darcy. I can see that you want to help, and I think you have Tony’s best interests at heart, but threatening us with a call to Fury is the last way to endear yourself to us or gain our trust.” He walked around the large island and grabbed a napkin. “We all kind of arrived here at Tony’s place completely unbidden, so don’t assume there’s any emergency. Yes, he’s having some difficulty adjusting to things, but who isn’t?” And that was completely true. “And yes, Thor is telling you the truth when he says he’s here to right some wrongs on his brother’s behalf. The rest is not your concern right now. We’re handling things here. I’m sure Tony would appreciate your respect of his privacy.”

 

He knew it would sting her pride a little, but his desire to protect Tony far outweighed Darcy’s porcelain skin, her alluring tenacity, or her vintage pin-up girl figure.

 

Bruce sipped some soda from a straw and stared at the countertop. He didn’t trust his eyes not to stray to somewhere other than her eyes, because she was probably the most beautiful creature he'd seen in a long while.

 

Darcy’s eyes widened a bit. She realized her mistake at bringing Fury’s name into it. Bruce’s comments stung more than a little. All she wanted to do was help, really. She’d never gotten the chance, and now something else was going on without her. Damn her big mouth. Now, any chance she had of hanging around was blown out of the water. As much as she should just leave the room, it simply was not in Darcy’s nature to give up.

 

“I would not have called Fury, really. I think he’s a total dick. But I’m staying. I want to help.” Darcy gripped the edge of the counter and felt like a petulant five year old about to have a tantrum. She was tired of being shuffled aside and being told, it’s for your own good, Darcy. It wasn’t her fault that she was treated like an airhead, even if she acted before thinking a lot of the time. One didn’t become Jane’s research assistant without having a brain, even if she was a business major and not an astrophysicist. She was a smart woman with much to contribute, that she was sure of.

 

Steve sighed. He hated dealing with distraught women, and Miss Lewis was about to get even more upset. With each minute that passed, the likelihood of her seeing Loki increased.

 

“I’m sorry to have to do this, miss, but we really can’t have you here right now.”

 

Before Darcy could even dodge, Steve scooped her off the counter and carried her out of the room.

 

Darcy let out a surprised squawk and tried to kick, but whoa, Cap was strong. In any other situation, Darcy would be loving the ride, but being manhandled when she was determined to stay was just not cool. She tried kicking and was unceremoniously slung over the Captain’s brawny shoulders. And although it did give her a fine view of his ass, Darcy let out a string of curses that made Steve blush.

 

Tony arrived at the kitchen just in time to see Captain America hauling a very pissed Darcy Lewis towards the door. He couldn’t help laughing at her predicament. Tony knew his temporary secretary was too nosy for her own good. He figured out pretty quickly that Darcy was trying to find out what was going on. They really couldn’t have that. No telling who she would blab to.

 

Tony stepped to one side to dodge her hand. “Leaving so soon? That’s a shame. Come back and visit. Say, in like, a week?”

 

“Stark, you asshole! I want to help!” Darcy wailed.

 

“Language, Miss Lewis. Now please just go back down to the lobby.” Steve gently deposited his cargo in the elevator, on the one that Jarvis so helpfully opened the doors.

 

“Here, take a long lunch. It’s on me.” Tony pulled out his wallet and tucked a hundred dollar bill in her jacket pocket right before the doors closed. He swore he could hear her cursing him as the car descended.

 

“Jarvis? Lock down the elevators to the top five floors. Stairwells too. Now where were we? Oh yeah, food and explanations. Coming Cap?” Tony went back inside and began to rummage through the bags of food. He snagged himself a carton of the soup and sat down at the bar.

 

Steve shook his head bemusedly and followed Tony back into the penthouse and into the kitchen. The food did smell awfully good and his body was telling him it needed fuel now. He loaded a plate and took a huge bite of one of the overstuffed pastrami sandwiches. He nearly moaned in delight.

 

Thor entered the kitchen area, eyeing the sandwiches and food items splayed out across the large granite top. It smelled like home.

 

"Did I hear Miss Lewis leave," he asked as he unwrapped one of the sandwiches. "You must watch out for that one."

 

"Yeah," Bruce acknowledged. "She's quite a firecracker. How'd you come about that, Tony? Or was that your doing, Thor?"

 

"Neither," Thor insisted, "and both perhaps. I believe Nick Fury had some sway in the matter as well as Jane Foster. Maybe even Erik Selvig. I'm not certain."

 

“She’s the only potential personal assistant other than Pepper that I haven’t managed to a.) Insult, b.) Get slapped with a sexual harassment lawsuit threat, or c.) Scare away,” Tony replied around a mouthful of soup.

 

"Well, I think you might have just covered A," Bruce muttered. "Cap might have touched on B, if she wanted to go there, and I managed to probably hit up C."

 

"I fear she may bring more trouble than peace, though it may not be what she desires. She can be very clever, but discord seems her nature."

 

"Much like your brother?" Bruce asked, just as Loki made his appearance. He turned his back towards the Asgardian, feeling the stirrings of the Other Guy. Bruce took his sandwich to the opposite side of the kitchen and pulled out a bar stool.

 

"There are none quite like my brother," Thor replied with a mouthful of food. Then to Loki, he asked "Would you like something to eat?"

 

Loki shook his head and sat down on the nearby couch in the lounge. He felt completely awkward and out of place, watching Thor eat with his friends.

 

And he was in this ridiculous robe.

 

And he still hurt.

 

Thor sighed in frustration and wiped his hands on a napkin. He almost forgot himself and used Tony Stark's robe instead. He selected a container of soup and a plastic spoon and brought it to Loki. "Eat, brother. You cannot hope to heal without proper nutrition."

 

Thor took the plastic lid off the container and stirred the hot liquid. He held it out to Loki, praying the dark prince did not make a scene.

 

Like Tony, Steve also noticed that the hatchet seemed to be buried between the two Asgardian brothers, which was amazing if you thought about it. It wasn’t that long ago that they tried to kill each other. As they ate, Steve tried to puzzle out the relationship that was Loki and Thor.

 

Tony pushed aside his soup and frankly stared at Steve and Thor. My god, watching them eat was like some kind of food porn. Those noises Steve was making were obscene, and if Tony was a betting man, and he was, he’d bet the Captain didn’t even realize how he sounded. Thor too relished his meal like it was the best thing he’d ever had, making appreciative noises after each bite.

 

Tony glanced over at Loki who seemed to be picking at his food, stirring the soup around and not taking a bite. He could totally understand that. Feeling not so much like eating now that the food hit his stomach, Tony put his bowl aside as well.

 

Steve frowned as he watched Tony set down his soup. The billionaire had barely taken five bites. But before he could comment ,Tony spoke up again.

 

“Okay, you’ve crashed at my house, used my bathroom - awesome isn’t it? - and eaten my food. Well, technically not my food, but I did pay for it. Now I think its time for a few answers."  

 

Tony walked to the bar and poured himself a scotch. He took a long swallow and waited to see if it would stay down. The warm burn sank into his stomach with hardly a protest.

 

"So Thor, what’s with all the brotherly love? Last I knew, Loki wanted to kill you. And I gotta tell you, tall dark and deadly sitting on my couch seems, for lack of a better word, sane? Just what the hell happened back home?”

 

It took some effort for Steve not to comment on Tony pouring himself a drink. With hardly any food in his system, he worried that Tony would do himself more harm than good. But there were more pressing matters at hand, like all the questions the Captain had regarding Tony’s guests.

 

“I, for one, am confused. How can you just go from enemies to siblings again?"  Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Also, we need to help Tony. Anything you can tell us about this magical poison?"

 

Yeah, Tony thought. He was so done with this poison shit. And according to Loki, it was just going to get worse. Not about to be intimidated in his own house, and besides Tony had seen him naked, he went and sat down on the sofa near Loki. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the god as he leaned back.

 

“Yeah, who else did you piss off up there anyway?” Tony could not help adding.

 

Thor's head swiveled back and forth between the two teammates. Loki followed their questioning comments with his eyes, tensing as the men continued on and on.  Then, he looked to Thor. It was clear, they were both quite uncomfortable with some or all of these inquiries.

 

"There are questions I have as well," Thor then admitted. "I have not had the opportunity to hear what my brother has to say for his actions pertaining to the Tesseract and the war that ensued."

 

"You were too busy sewing my mouth shut once the muzzle came off to allow me a moment to speak," Loki snarled.

 

Thor physically reacted like a well thrown punch to his gut. His head hung low, but he turned towards Loki and spoke quietly. "And now I have freed you, in more ways than one, when less than few would even consider such a thing."

 

Tony had yet to hear an explanation for that one. Was Thor forced to do that? Even so, it amazed Tony, seeing how much it upset the Thunder God, that he’d been able to do that to Loki. Knowing now first hand about the poison running merrily through his veins, it infuriated Tony still. If Thor didn’t give them a good enough reason, he’d still get a repulsor blast to the head.

 

Steve’s mouth dropped open in shock. Thor did this? How could he? Clearly, this upset Thor, but still,  how could someone do this to their own family? Steve hoped the answers would be satisfactory.

 

Loki glared at Thor. He'd have squirmed if he was raised as anything less than a son of Odin.

 

"Where are our clothes?" Loki finally spat out, each word punctuated by anger towards feeling cornered.  He fixed Tony with a stare and calculated the distance between them on the couch. Any closer, and he could transfigure to strike like a cobra. Though in his state, it would end up more like shooting spitballs at Tony's face, even if he had access to his magic, which he didn't.

 

If Tony was a sane person, he’d be nervous at the glare Loki was shooting at him. But that is the one thing he’d never been accused of. So he just grinned cockily back and leaned his head on his hand. "They're coming. Just sit tight."

 

Thor rubbed his forehead, suddenly weary. "Do not be petulant, brother. You heard Jarvis. They are on the way."

 

"Fine. Then let's answer some more of their badgering questions."

 

Which ones? asked the look on Thor's face.

 

"Do any of you have siblings?" Loki questioned rhetorically. "If you do, then you would understand."  When no one answered, he rolled his eyes. "Lucky lot. So then, I will spell it out for you."

 

Thor paced apprehensively, watching Loki speak.

 

"There is an unspoken law of checks and balances with those who call themselves 'siblings'."

 

"You are and always will be my brother, Loki. I would disobey the Allfather and leave Asgard for very few - only those I love most."

 

Loki winced at the term 'love' and stared at his brother for a long while. "Thor and I have wronged each other much in our past.  With those wrongs comes a balanced restitution. Tit for tat, I believe is your Midgardian saying.  With that, all smoothes over most of the time, and the status quo is returned.  Most recently, however, was the most grievous of wrongs."

 

Thor narrowed his eyes and lowered his chin, wondering just how Loki would spin things to become the victim in his friend's eyes.

 

"Thor threw me into a black abyss he created after he destroyed the Bifrost. If not for that, I'd have never been found by the Chitauri and used to start a war on your precious Earth. So you see, most of the blame falls on him."

 

"I destroyed the Bifrost because you were using it to commit genocide out of self-hatred," Thor bellowed, fists balled at his sides. "And I did not let you fall that day. I tried to save you, Loki. Had you but reached out and grabbed my hand--"

 

“Wait? Genocide?” Steve sputtered.

 

"Yes, genocide, of a monstrous race, the likes of which I have an uncanny resemblance." Loki stood to yell in Thor's face. "You let me fall. You and Odin no longer had need for me. You wanted me gone."

 

"That is not true. Yes, I was angry. You came to me that day in SHIELD'S base in New Mexico and told me our Father was dead, that I broke his heart," Thor shouted. "But I never wished for your death, Loki."

 

"Um, okay," Bruce chimed in, crawling off the barstool quickly. "Just to warn everyone, the Other Guy is about three seconds away from joining in on this testosterone-filled bickering match you two have begun."

 

Steve quickly forced his way between Thor and Loki. Except for the Other Guy, he was the only one physically capable of stepping between them.

 

“I don’t think anyone wants Dr. Banner to get upset, so knock it off. We want answers, and not this adolescent shouting match. It’s the least Tony deserves for letting you into his home.”

 

Steve just hoped that he didn’t get sent through a wall.

 

“Yeah, sick person on the sofa here who really doesn’t want to argue with his insurance company again over damages. You ever try and convince them to cover an act of god? Its impossible.” Tony got up and went over to Bruce. He placed his hands on the doctor's shoulders. He could not help but notice the slight tinge of green in the doctor’s eyes.

 

“Deep breaths, Bruce. Come on look at me. Everything is okay. Come over here and sit down. I’ll even let you take my pulse.” Tony gently pulled Bruce over to the large leather sectional. He encouraged the scientist to sit. Then he got comfortable himself.  Tony’s headache was coming back so he laid down with his head in Bruce’s lap, ignoring when Bruce jumped at the position he found himself in.

 

Tony  turned his head and glared at the Asgardian brothers. “You can fix your family issues later. This is getting us nowhere. Steve, I owe Loki a drink. Be a dear and fetch him one please.”  Then he closed his eyes.

 

It was a good thing Jarvis was recording everything. If Loki and Thor kept sniping at each other, it would take forever to pick out the relevant parts, like how they were going to cure him.

 

Steve rolled his eyes. When did he become Tony Stark’s personal flying monkey? But anything to help defuse the tense situation. Steve gritted his teeth. “Would you like a drink?”

 

Then, after drinks had been served, Steve wanted the rest of the story, or by God, he was going to go and get his shield. His patience only stretched so far.

 

"I'll have whatever Stark had," Loki said. "It hasn't killed him yet."

 

"Sir, the clothes have arrived," Jarvis announced. "I've had them sent up through the parcel shoot. I'll have Dummy bring them up now."

 

Loki gave Dr. Banner a wide birth. He was clearly on the edge of physical violence with his brother, what that would amount to, and unfortunately for him, would be very little damage, but at the same time, he had the inclination for self-preservation. So he walked it off, so to speak, venturing back into the safety of bedroom in hopes that Thor would retrieve their new Midgardian clothing and return with them, leaving Banner some time to calm down.

 

Steve watched Loki leave the room and exhaled in relief. He really didn’t want a huge fight.

 

Then he looked over at Tony and fought the urge not to laugh. Dr. Banner looked genuinely perplexed at the billionaire’s behavior. But Tony’s actions seemed to derail Bruce’s anxiety, forcing his attention elsewhere. It was a genius move, really.

 

He walked to the bar and poured Loki that drink. Some kind of whiskey, no doubt hideously expensive. He set the heavy square glass down on the edge of the bar and waited for the Asgardian brothers to return to the living area.

 

Bruce looked down at the man's face in his lap. He shook his head and held out his wrist to look at his watch. With the other, he gently took Tony's wrist and found his pulse.

 

"I'm guessing no one ever told you to run away from danger? Because I have to say, in the last few hours, you've been pretty daring. Maybe it's just that Stark cockiness in your DNA. And just so you know, you've confused the Other Guy so much he's lost half his rage. He doesn't understand why the hell you're laying in my lap."

 

“Because it's comfortable?" Tony managed, smiling up at Bruce.  "Run away from danger? Nah, I do not think you are dangerous.  How many times do I have to say that? You, my friend, are a huge marshmallow who happens to get all green and ragey from time to time.”

 

"Marshmallow, huh?" Bruce said bashfully. He shook his head again at this relatively insane person looking up at him. "If you say so."

 

This is why Bruce came back. He hated it and loved it both. No one said those things to him anymore, and not in a romantic way. In a way that friends say things. Well, okay, this was Tony so things could always be misconstrued. But no one in the industry or media saw this side of Tony Stark. He could be generous beyond measure, grateful for the smallest kindness, and unpredictable - which sometimes worked in his favor. Bruce assumed this was what charisma was all about.  It caused most of them to reassemble at the man's Tower - this unseen, unidentified aura that made Tony Stark what he is and drew people to him. He just happened  - for some unknown reason - to be allowed to come inside and play with Tony's toys. In a totally platonic way.

 

“Thanks, man, for helping. I’m glad you came back. By the way where’s my car?”

 

"Your car?" Bruce asked innocently. "Oh did you want that back?"

 

Tony coughed mockingly. “Seriously? Tell me you know where my NSX is?”

 

Bruce rubbed his finger over his chin. "Ah so this is what it feels like to have leverage over someone rich and powerful? This is nice," he commented, wiggling his brow at Steve.

 

“Well, fine then. Everyone pick on the poor, helpless billionaire.” Tony pouted but could not keep the grin off his face.

 

Steve actually did laugh at that. It was nice to see Dr. Banner happy. Also, it was heartening to see Tony acting like, well, Tony.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fiction is an obvious AU to suit our plot purposes when we wanted to fill in gaps and answer questions in the Phase One portion of the MCU. It diverges from canon and is not Thor 2 compliant, though some elements will probably pop up later on.

"Thank you," Thor said, holding up the garment bag and other clothing boxes that Dummy brought up through the elevator. He took them into the bedroom, hoping that Loki had calmed enough that an intervention by Banner's green beast would not be needed.

 

The brothers changed in silence, Loki seeking his privacy in the wash room. Thor knocked on the door lightly. "Do you need help?"

 

"Of course not," Loki lied. He stared at his socks and shoes, knowing if he bent over, he'd fall head first onto the floor and not get up. Same if he sat to put them on. This was so undignified.

 

"I'm coming in," Thor said and entered. He completed Loki's dressing in awkward silence, the threat of the Hulk being the only reason Loki was quiet about the ordeal. He even took the time to pull some of Loki's hair back from his face, braiding and then locking it in place.

 

"How did you manage our escape?" Loki finally asked. He buttoned up the black waistcoat over his white shirt and pulled the crisp, pressed sleeves down low on his hands. Last was a shiny leather belt around the waist of his black pants. The tie was passed over for now. It required too much from him and no doubt Thor wouldn't know what to do with it.

 

"Our mother arranged it."

 

Loki spun around to face his brother. "Our mother? But the Allfather will know. She had to have been aided by a... by someone who could--"

 

"Calm down, Loki."

 

"No, I won't calm down," Loki said, leaving the bedroom entirely and returning to the kitchen area where everyone still sat in audience. "You asked her for such a thing? Something that would condemn her to the Allfather's form of punishment?"

 

"Loki, no. I said, calm down." Thor followed his brother to the bar where Loki downed the entire glass in one go. "Think this through. Frigga sees all.  She said there was a purpose. It was her will to have you freed. She knew I did not agree with your imprisonment either and together, we made it so."

 

Loki leaned heavily against the bar, the weight of things seeming overwhelming suddenly. He spun on Thor again, seemingly to have forgotten the others in the room, "And who called up the dark magic to get us here?"

 

"Karnilla."

 

"Oh, by the gods," Loki cursed and reached for the bottle Rogers had left on the bar top. "Now I am in debt to the Norn Queen once more. You have no idea what you have done."

 

"More family drama," Bruce muttered. "Do you have another one of those muzzles laying around here, Tony?"

 

“Ah, that would be a no. It was a one of kind actually. Not much into designing bondage gear, but if you ask nicely....” Tony’s eyes slid over to Loki. He seemed determined to down that bottle whiskey himself. But he had to admit, the god did clean up nicely. Tony would have to compliment Jarvis on his fashion sense.

 

"Shut up," Loki demanded of both Stark and Banner.  He felt on the verge of panic. To Thor he said, "We must go back. I refuse to leave our mother in the hands of Odin."

 

"She is his wife. I believe the love he feels for her is true and will prevail."

 

"I would not know that kind of love from Odin, would I?

 

"He spared you, brother," Thor sternly reminded, and before Loki could invalidate this claim, he continued: "Tell me this. Can you even conjure up another dark portal to take us home? If not, there is nothing you can do but stay here, as Frigga wills it."

 

This stopped Loki in his tracks. He glared at his brother long enough that one would think they were having a telepathic conversation. With resignation, he said, "If anything happens to her, I will blame you."

 

"This was her will, Loki. We've always trusted her Sight before. Why would you stop now?"

 

"There is no one I trust more, but you have allowed her to risk her life for this."

 

"For us," Thor scoffed, "and I allow her nothing. She needs not my permission. Frigga does as she wishes. I would love to see you infer otherwise to her face."

 

"I would not," Loki quickly said, as if it was the most posterous idea to insult her that way.  He flounced down on the couch again, irate and confused.

 

Loki’s concern for his mother, adopted or not, unexpectedly touched Steve. His own mother had been the only person there for him on the nights his asthma would not let him sleep. She’d sat up with him and exhausted would go to work the next day. She would patch him up after his many fights, shaking her head sadly, but never lecturing him. Well, not much. She made sure he was fed and clothed, all the while struggling to pay the rent.

 

Steve still missed  her with an ache that would never go away. She died of pneumonia after a lingering cough. Steve was only twelve at the time. Having no other living relatives, he was sent to live in an orphanage. Being the small sickly new kid made life tough for him. That was, until he met James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky, as he liked to be called. They became fast friends and Bucky became his champion against the bullies that plagued his young life.

 

So for Steve to hear Loki’s very real concern for his mother made him rethink a few things about the Asgardian in front of him. At this moment, he appeared to be more like Thor than he probably realized.

 

“So, we now know how you got here, but why did you have to escape like that in the first place?" Steve asked. "Wasn’t sewing Loki’s mouth shut enough?”

 

"One would think" Loki countered, glaring at Thor.

 

Tony winced at Steve’s words. He could not help but vividly recall Loki’s abused flesh and grotesque bonds. Now, to look at the trickster, you’d hardly know such wounds existed.

 

Thor leaned back against the bar, folding his arms over his broad chest. He was more comfortable in the jeans, gray t-shirt and work boots, but this conversation was exhausting. And he knew it was far from over.

 

"Loki committed more crimes than those against Midgard. A war... another war was started with the Jotuns, the race of Frost Giants whom Loki tried to destroy by using the Bifrost was a weapon. I've spent these last months commanding our troops against the Frost Giants and also the many races that ran amok when our bridge between the Nines was ruined. The Allfather's punishment for Loki was justified in the eyes of the Aesir, for many have lost their lives battling against our enemies across the Nine Realms. They believe none of this would have transpired if not for my brother's actions."

 

“So, Loki not only had to pay for crimes here but on Asgard as well. Why flee though? Were his bonds going to kill him,” Steve asked.

 

“Wait. Who ordered that barbaric punishment anyway? I mean why not just execute him or throw him in a dungeon somewhere? No offense Loki.” Tony could not help adding.

 

"I wondered the same," Loki muttered.

 

"It is because of Frigga that Loki lives," he told them. "She recognizes that he was raised in the palace as royalty and sat on the throne of Asgard. He has skills and wisdom and value in political and executive roles that none other possess in the Nine. He is a fierce fighter in battle, and Loki's skill in magics is unsurpassed by any Asgardian, save the Allmother."

 

Thor looked at each of them in the room. "Would you no sooner destroy your world leaders or your Captain or other champions such as yourselves if they went astray? Would they be of no more use to your people, undeserving of rehabilitation?"

 

Loki sat back against the cushion, unsure of what to make of Thor's praise. His heart soared in hearing such accolades but his mind was not ready to accept them from someone who had caused him so much pain so recently.

 

Thor sighed heavily.

 

"Odin's sentence for Loki was harsh, as were his crimes. His punishment was slow and agonizing, made to allow him time to repent. As you can see, it did not allow for anything but anguish. So yes, I was concerned that he would die and that his imprisonment only allowed his hatred to fester.

 

"And as you surmised," Thor continued, "I was made to place the bindings in Loki's mouth. Midgard was mine to protect, and I failed to do so. Our justice system allowed me to take retribution for his attack on your people. My punishment for allowing those lives to be wasted was to be the one to carry out the sentence. I found no pleasure in it, but I knew another would only make it worse for my brother.  

 

"My brother was sentenced to suffer long in Asgard's deepest vaults until Frigga wanted him freed, and that is what has brought us here to you now."

 

Steve understood the why and the how, but there were still questions. “What led you to choose to seek asylum here at Stark tower and do we have to worry about anyone coming to take Loki back? We just fought one battle, I’d rather not jump right back into another.”

 

As Tony lay quite comfortably in Bruce’s lap, thank you very much, he listened to Thor’s tale. Thinking back carefully on everything that happened, when Thor and Loki arrived, Thor had his hammer of course, but Loki’s scepter was absent. It made sense really. A prisoner would not be allowed weapons. The energy though that the staff contained had the ability to invade a person’s mind, if what he read from SHIELD’s files was completely the truth, the power either came from the blue gem in it's top or the Tesseract. The latter was a wild, and in Tony’s mind, uncontrollable energy. Could it have affected Loki too and warped him even more than he already was? Because from listening to Thor and Loki argue, it seemed that Loki had issue upon issue. So it was a question he’d have to ask Loki himself.

 

As he thought about it all, Tony absently began to scratch his arm again. He neglected to wrap it up after his shower.

 

Loki brushed lint from his knee, pondering how to answer the Captain. "I have angered many in my time," he said thoughtfully. Then he looked directly at Tony Stark. "There will always be those who disagree with me and my choices, but to answer your question," he said to Rogers, "I do not think the Aesir will come for us here. Frigga will see to it that we are allowed time to rest."

 

"And the Chitauri?" Thor asked.

 

"What of them? I believe you called it genocide," he said to Thor, "or do you not use that term when Stark annihilates the majority of a race with Migardian's version of the Bifrost? Will you call him a hero or will you punish him severely as you did me?"

 

They all looked at Tony when he let out a laugh. It sounded forced and humorless.

 

“Once again, I’ve lived up to my ‘Merchant of Death’ nickname. I guess its true then. No one ever forgets your past.”

 

With a huge effort, Tony pasted a patently fake smile on his lips. He would think about the consequences of Loki’s words later. And preferably with a large bottle of scotch.

 

Steve bristled at Loki’s comment. His brows drew down into a frown.

 

“Hey. We didn’t start the invasion now did we? Those creatures were destroying everything in their path. You brought this war to us. What did you expect us to do?”  Steve stepped closer to Tony to defend him. "Stark was willing to sacrifice himself to save our world from impending annihilation. That is heroic.”

 

Tony was frankly stunned by Steve’s defense of him. He didn’t feel deserving of such high praise. He’d simply done what no one else could have.

 

Steve wasn't the only one angered by Loki's manipulative rationalizations. Bruce looked at the Asgardian and narrowed his eyes. Not as eloquent as Steve, but more enraged, Bruce said, "You're a ruthless dick. This is your last warning, Loki. Next time you piss one of us off, I'm letting the Other Guy out and cheering him on."

 

Loki raised his chin in defiance but it only lasted so long. He got up and poured himself another drink. It wasn't helping the aches and pains, certainly wasn't helping his anxiety of being trapped here with all this questioning and sentiment and sharing from the heart, but it was something to do. And it was on the other side of the room from Banner.

 

“Okay, moving right along. So Loki, tell me, what did happen to you with the Tesseract? Cause I gotta tell you, you seem like a whole different person now. You appear to have lost some of your crazy.” Tony’s fingers dug into his sleeve a little more, the fucking itching was starting up again.

 

"Crazy?" Loki repeated. Then, it was his turn for maniacal laughter. "If you only knew what I have seen…"  

 

He downed the drink and crushed the glass with his hand.  He raised his fingers and watched blood oozing from a few cuts from the glass shards.

 

"What did you see, brother?" Thor asked. He tried to tend to Loki's hand but it was pulled away.

 

"This story is one you may not believe," he told them, wrapping a towel around the superficial wounds on his hand. "I will give you something I rarely extend freely - the truth.

 

“One of my rites of passage in my youth was to usher a cosmic cube away from Odin’s vault.  He feared it would lure the God of War into treachery against Asgard, so I was given the task of hiding it.

 

I traveled to the Allfather’s protected realm and hid it underneath one of Midgard’s greatest metropolises in Giza. That cube was the Tesseract. It asked me not to bury it, but I did as the Allfather asked. So it lay underneath one of the pyramids for time. Who first discovered it, I know not, but I have recently learned that it empowered a handful of Midgardians since then such as Vlad the Impaler, Genghis Khan, and others. Years ago, it was discovered in Tonsberg, Norway where a more modern warlord was preparing for genocide."

 

Loki turned then and caught Steve's gaze.

 

"You too have spoken with the Tesseract, Rogers. It is not just myself and Barton who know of it's influence. You are well aware that it not pleased when you stymied Johann Schmidt's plight for world domination.  So tell us, Captain. What did it show you?”

 

Steve startled at Loki’s question. The trickster was talking like that damned cube was alive. He tried to think back to his fateful fight with Red Skull. His memories were a bit scrambled still from those last moments of his former life.

 

“I really don’t know. Schmidt grabbed the cube and it…"

 

Steve then realized he'd witnessed almost the exact same sequence of events that happened in the Battle of New York.

 

"The Tesseract opened some kind of portal. There were stars and… and a voice. Why didn’t I remember that before this?"

 

Loki was quick to grin, a bright flash of teeth and a wry chuckle. "What did it tell you?"

 

"I could barely hear it. Schmidt was ranting, and then he just, I don’t know, dissolved or got sucked into the void or something. Then the cube sank through the floor and fell. I put the plane down in the ice soon after that.”

 

Loki chuckled again. "The cube didn't fall, Captain. It escaped you. It is not surprising that it ended up with your secret agency who destroys under the name of 'protection by force.' Fury's lies to himself and to others are some of the best I've heard or uttered myself."

 

Tony’s head was still spinning. The damned thing was alive? How was that even possible? If what Loki said was true, the Tesseract had been influencing human history for millennia. It was almost too absurd to be believed.

 

“So you are saying we’ve been the Tesseract’s bitch almost through all of recorded history? That is so fucked up. I'm so glad it is back with your daddy." Tony sat up and tapped the arc reactor as he thought about what Loki said. "Obviously it didn’t like me, probably because of the little appliance I have in my chest. But then again, I’m guess I'm not totally immune. It did piss me off on the helicarrier, though that could have just been my sparkling personality.”

 

"That was just a bit of fun," Loki mocked, sliding his hands in his trouser pockets, gaze fixed on Stark.  “But I also find it interesting that the scepter didn’t touch your mind either. It would’ve enjoyed toying with you, to the dismay of your people. I could easily get to Dr. Banner using it,” he mentioned as a side note, “since the scepter was already in the room with him when I passed by in the hallway. You see, a portion of the Tesseract’s energy was bled off over the millennia.  A fraction of of it is now contained in that scepter. It is the blue stone known as the mind gem. The scepter merely magnified my telepathic abilities and allowed me to spread its will to those it chose.  The beast that lies within Banner is on a hair trigger so it didn’t take much, even from a distance, to set it off.”

 

Bruce rolled his eyes and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So what you're saying is that you don't just manipulate people with that wiseass mouth of yours, but you do it with your mind too. You get your jollies from being the ultimate puppet master, is that it?"

 

“Loki is not manipulating anyone anymore," Thor defended, standing between the doctor and his brother. “He has no access to his magic right now and is not malicious towards any of you. Isn't that right, Loki?”

 

"What would be the point?" Loki said snidely. "Had my mind been my own, Midgard is the last realm I would chose to subjugate. There is nothing here of value."

 

"Loki," Thor scolded.

 

Tony could feel Bruce tense up next to him and thought it in his best interest to scoot a little away from the irate geneticist.

 

“Insulting," Banner acknowledged. “You always know what to say to get yourself out of trouble, don’t you? You want us to think you were under someone else’s control so we just absolve you from any wrongdoing, blame some cosmic cube full of sentient evil energy? That’s convenient,” he nodded, turning around to stare Loki down.  “Wrap it up for us, concise and complete, expect us to believe you’re a victim and gain our sympathies," he said, wringing his hands. Then he pointed at the Asgardian and yelled, "Well, I’m not buying it.”

 

“Believe what you will,” Loki shouted in a rush of words, finally reaching the peak of his frustration. “But it is the truth. Ask your precious Hawk or… or … or Erik Selvig or Phil Coulson. They can validate what I have told you about the Tesseract. They too have heard The Other and Thanos and know what waits for all of us if you continue to court the Tesseract and broadcast your desire to obtain higher forms of intelligence.”

 

“Who is Thanos?” Thor questioned.

 

“Don’t speak his name again." Loki pleaded, pained and alarmingly tense, as if he was waiting for an imminent attack. When he finally opened his eyes, he appeared calmer, but his body was still poised to fight.

 

“I tell you, ask Barton,” he nearly begged. "He has heard and knows of what I speak."

 

Tony watched Loki carefully. His reaction to the name Thanos seemed to cower the god. That in itself was alarming. Tony also frowned at Loki’s words. At the mention of Coulson, the billionaire got to his feet because asking Coulson simply could not be done.

 

“Coulson is dead. You should know. So how can we ask him anything?” Steve stalked up to the bar and grabbed Loki by the shirt. “How can we trust anything you’re telling us?”

 

"You verify the facts with those you do trust," Loki answered, meeting his eyes with defiance. "Coulson did not die by my hands. I injured him grievously, yes. He was the last obstacle in my way, save for Thor.  But if Coulson is dead, that would be someone else's doing. Last I checked, a human corpse doesn't speak, and your favorite agent had more than enough to say to me."

 

The Captain didn't seem satisfied with that answer at all, and Loki - not for the first time in his life - got angry for being dubbed the God of Lies when he needed to be trusted most. He twisted out of the Captain's grasp to pace the floor again.

 

"Realize that I had many opportunities to do my worst, and yet, I did not." He looked at Thor in particular. "I knew you'd escape the pod when I released it from the helicarrier. Mjolnir had already all but crushed the glass prison.  I also could've done much worse than a dagger to your gut that day when we fought on this Tower. You know what I say is true."

 

Then Loki looked back at the Captain. "Had I commanded all the Chitauri forces through the dark portal at once, you and your Avengers would have been unable to succeed in eliminating them as they trickled through the opening. The death and destruction would have been overwhelming. I portioned their attack to fit your response and yet kept the illusion of invasion to pacify those who held sway over me.  Myself and Selvig, we practically won the war for you. You should thank us."

 

Tony didn’t bother hiding his incredulous snort at Loki’s boasting. And here Tony thought he personally had a problem with embellishment? Seems Loki had him beat.

 

Bruce gave a derisive snort. "One minute you're telling us you were under some kind of evil jedi mind control and the next you say it was your conscious choice to make it easier for us to defend our planet? You need to get your lies straight."

 

Loki shouted, clearly frustrated beyond measure, "I have given you the truth, yet you are disturbed that it does not suit your requirements for my culpability. Since you have convicted me even knowing this, I will say no more."

 

"Your arrogance is not befitting in this situation, brother." Thor put himself between Loki and the others. "We did ask for answers. It is up to us now to confirm this information. I would imagine Erik Selvig would be easier to find than Barton, unless you would know his whereabouts," he said to the Avengers.

 

Steve glared at the trickster before reluctantly walking away. “If Coulson is alive, then where is he and why were told died that day?”

 

Tony grabbed his StarkTablet from a side table and collapsed back onto the sofa. He gleefully found his way back into SHIELD’s servers. He wanted answers and wanted them now. So, Agent might not be dead after all...

 

“Ms Romanov might know where Barton is. I can call her and ask," Steve said, taking out his phone. "Although, I don’t know if its a good idea for her to be told what’s going on.”

 

“Wait, wait. You have the Widow’s cell phone number?" Tony arched his eyebrow at the Captain. "And just how did you get that?”

 

“Uh, she gave it to me for professional use?” Steve said, a little flustered.

 

“Professional use. Riiiiight," Tony teased until Steve's scowl became uncomfortable. "Yeah, go ahead and call her, but just ask if she knows where Barton is and if he’s okay. Granted, we haven’t seen much of Hawkeye, but he wasn’t looking so good the last time Fury drug us all in together for another friendly interrogation. Tell her that you want to meet up, have a meal, be chummy.”

 

Steve picked Ms Romanoff’s number and hit the call button. He waited and listened as her voicemail picked up. He hated talking to these things. “Ms. Romanoff? We, that is, I was wondering if you’ve heard from Agent Barton, if’s he’s okay. Tony says we should all get together as a team and have a meal and talk. Maybe Barton would like to join us. Let me know if you see him, okay? Thanks.”

 

“Smooth, Rogers, very smooth,” Tony remarked absently. Most of his attention was taken up by his search of SHIELD's database.

 

Steve chose to ignore Tony’s snark and looked out the expansive windows. The view of the city was breathtaking. Despite the wreckage, it was something he was still getting used to.

 

The room descended into an uncomfortable silence. Steve truly didn’t know what to do about their current predicament. All of his formal training screamed at him to just contact Fury and turn Loki in, but his human side simply could not do that to Thor.  And Loki did seem different. Maybe he really did want to change. Even Steve could see that beneath his bravado was a very damaged individual.

 

Maybe they should give him a chance. Only time would tell.

 

“That one eyed son of a bitch! He did lie to us," Tony informed everyone. "Agent Coulson is alive and currently in a coma in a SHIELD medical facility in the city. His wounds, while originally life threatening," he said, eyeing Loki with bitterness, "are healing nicely, though his persistent unconscious state has his doctors worried."

 

"So kiddies, what do we do about this?" Tony tossed the tablet onto the cushion next to him and addressed the room. "Oh, and good job Jarvis. SHIELD thought they could keep me out? Hah!”

 

"But why would Fury do that?" Bruce questioned. He wasn't the only one completely confounded by the Director's manipulation of them.

 

Steve thought about the cards he kept, the ones he couldn’t bear to throw away, the ones covered in Coulson’s blood. A good man had fallen that day, made the ultimate sacrifice. Or so Steve was led to believe.

 

How dare Fury use the death of Phil Coulson as a tool. Steve would never have done that when he was the leader of the Howling Commandos.

 

When Bucky fell, the rest of the commandos doubled their resolve to see that Schmidt paid. Steve didn’t have to dangle the death of their friend in front of them. In fact, Steve was sure the Avengers would have come together because it was the right thing to do, not because Phil Coulson died, although that would have been part of it.

 

Steve had found Agent Coulson to be endearingly charming and frightfully efficient. Tony called him a fanboy, but Steve was flattered.

 

“I want to find Coulson, get to the bottom of this," Steve confirmed. "We owe him that much.”

 

Loki's retreating back caught Bruce's eye. "One more thing, before you slink back under a rock, your Highness. We need to discuss Tony's condition."

 

Thor folded his arms over his broad chest. "Have a care with your demands, friend. Loki has been honest with us thus far and deserves no insult."

 

"What more do you want from me," Loki asked wearily.

 

"An antidote, for one thing," Bruce suggested with annoyance. "Tony can't continue to just treat this condition. I'm sure he'd like it completely resolved."

 

“My condition, as you, call it can wait. I’m feeling okay so far. I think we need to crash Fury’s little private party. You,” Tony pointed at Loki, “need to stay here. There is no way you’re leaving this suite. You can ask Jarvis for anything you might need, within reason of course. Thor, it might be best if you stay and watch him.”

 

"I will do so," Thor answered. "Loki and I both need to rest to be hail and hearty in the morrow."

 

Loki's face pinched up, as if he couldn't believe Thor would still use that phrase here on Midgard. Still, he was overwhelmingly grateful that he'd have more privacy. Stark's home was adequate enough for his comfort, even more so if they could get Banner out the door. Loki couldn't give the doctor what he wanted and he was afraid of the consequences.

 

"Hey," Bruce said quietly after trailing Tony to get his attention. The doctor rubbed his chin and glance back at Loki before speaking to the engineer. "I'll come with you if you want, but it might be best that I stay. I need to talk to you about what I discovered in the lab while you were resting, but it will wait. I'd just like you to take it easy out there," he said sincerely, giving Tony a look that asked for confirmation of said request. "And before you go, why don't you reapply the heat to your arm and take some of the homeopathic remedy Jarvis pointed me to. I got you an arsenic derivative. Thought you'd enjoy that."

 

“Sure Bruce, you can wrap my arm again. It is starting to bother me." Tony was just itching, no pun intended, to go after Coulson but he stopped for Bruce. The symptoms of his brush with Asgardian magic were lingering, but Tony was doing his best to ignore them. "And seriously, arsenic? You are trying to poison me for my tech, admit it. You want Dummy for yourself, right. Jarvis? Is Bruce trying to poison me?”

 

“Sir, the remedy Dr. Banner speaks of, Arsenicum Album, is a widely accepted homeopathic treatment for the symptoms you are exhibiting.”

 

Tony could swear he heard exasperation in the voice of his AI.

 

“Okay, hook me up then. Places to go and patients to liberate.” Tony rolled up his sleeve and followed his fellow scientist.

 

Bruce found himself smiling, despite the situation. It was always like this when he was around Tony. The man just made things seem tolerable, pleasant even. Well, when there wasn't an Asgardian prick in the same room with them.

 

"You can't slow down for a second," he commented and led Tony back into the bedroom suite. He motioned for Cap to follow as well, and while he put another heat pack on Tony's arm and used the Ace bandage to hold it to his skin, he gave Steve the mother hen look.

 

"You're gonna watch out for him right? Any sign of dizziness, sweating, paleness, and I need you to abort this surprise mission you're so keen on doing. We don't know what we're dealing with, but I... I just need you to be careful."

 

He brought Tony a glass of water and a few of the tablets he picked up. "Here's to hoping these help more than harm. I'd rather have you nearby to see if you're going to have any reaction, but.. well..."

 

Bruce shrugged and looked at Cap as if to say I know I can't stop him so you'll have to be my eyes and ears.

 

Steve followed Tony and Dr. Banner and watched carefully everything Bruce did. He nodded as the doctor told him what he needed to watch out for. “I’ll make sure Tony is careful.”

 

“Hey, ‘Tony’ is right here in the room.” The billionaire sighed and rolled his eyes but he took the pills. There was no way he could handle double-barrel puppy dog eyes from Steve and Bruce.

 

“Fine, fine. Here’s hoping this does not kill me.” Tony winced at the twin glares aimed his way.

 

“Kidding. Now, I think this situation calls for a little armor of the tycoon type.” Tony strolled into his walk in closet and pulled a dark navy, exquisitely tailored suit off the rack. He also grabbed all the accessories to make quite the statement, the ones that screamed ‘I have more money than god’.

 

Steve watched Tony pick out his suit and looked away when the billionaire simply changed practically in front of him. He looked down at his own dark blue denim jeans and beige long sleeved t-shirt. Steve shrugged and decided it was not worth it to change. Let Tony go for the impressive wardrobe. Steve didn’t care what he wore as long as he got to see Agent Coulson.

 

Tony left the dressing room and slipped a pair of dark shades on. He glanced in the mirror on the door and smoothed back his hair. Looking good, Stark, he thought as he walked out.

 

“Okay, let's move this along. Down to the garage, then we can crash their private little party.”

 

Steve followed shaking his head, especially when Tony peered at him over the top of his shades. As if to say ‘are you wearing that?’. The billionaire could be such a peacock at times.

 

Loki stood up from the couch he'd been sitting on when Stark appeared again. He gave him a once over, sliding his hands into the pockets of his own designer trousers. He'd have to use Stark's tailor, that much was certain, if he was going to stay, which brought him to his question:

 

"About your intentions, Stark. How much of this are you going to discuss with Director Fury?"

 

“How much am I going to tell SHIELD about you? Not a damn thing. It’ll be difficult to keep Thor's return from them, but that’s all they need to know. Like I need one more thing for them to hold over me.” Tony hoped both Asgardians believed him. For once, he was being entirely truthful, and not just for selfish reasons. Loki might hold the secret to his cure, and he’d be damned if he let SHIELD get their hands on the godling. Tony wasn’t so sure he himself would not end up in a lab somewhere. Just look at what happened to Bruce in the past.

 

"Very well," Loki permissioned. He waited until Stark was almost at the elevator before he mentioned more.  He turned his back to the Avengers and looked out over the city. "Physical exertion will be your bane, Stark. Be wary."

 

Bruce physically wilted at Loki's words, fixed his eyes on Steve, and motioned at Tony with a tilt of his head.

 

"I'm not kidding," he said to Rogers. "Any sign of physical distress, and you come home."  

 

Bruce was more than concerned now. This was Tony Stark's life they were gambling with. He knew they were in a lot of trouble, he just didn't know how to tell the brilliant technical genius.

 

“Yeah, yeah. No problem. I got it.” Tony waved them off as he headed for the elevator.

 

“I’ll keep an eye on him," Steve quietly reassured. Then he followed the billionaire down to the garage level to go and find Agent Coulson.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with us everyone.

Once at the garage level of the Tower, Steve stared in open mouthed shock at the excess that was Tony’s car collection. He couldn’t even begin to put a name to all the sleek and shiny new looking vehicles. This kind of lavish evidence of Tony’s wealth made Steve more than a little uncomfortable.

 

Tony walked through his collection and idly stroked a hood here or a door there. “So Steve, any of these strike your fancy?”

 

“Ah, I’m not sure. Can we just pick one and go?" Steve carefully looked Tony over for any signs that Dr. Banner mentioned. "Should you even be driving?”

 

“Quit looking at me like I’m a bug under a microscope. I’m fine. So I’ll just pick one if you won't.” Tony walked up to a personal favorite. He felt like a little indulgent luxury, so he selected the Rolls Phantom. All of his cars had the addition of a direct link to Jarvis - fuck GM's On-Star.

 

Tony keyed open the door and sank into the plush leather upholstery. “Get in, Cap. I promise not to alarm you with my scary driving skills. Besides, you’re a super soldier, so you’d survive, right?”

 

The billionaire grinned when Steve finally slid in next to him.

 

Steve examined the interior of the car. He was pretty much afraid to touch anything. The dashboard looked like it belonged in a plane not a car. He desperately gripped the hand rest as Tony started the engine and roared out of the garage. Jarvis opened the VIP garage doors so Tony could maneuver out into traffic.

 

To him, the drivers today seemed just as insane as in his day. There were a lot more cars on the road though. Steve tried to avoid hitting the imaginary brakes on his side as Tony barely missed a delivery truck.

 

“Relax, Cap. I think you’re putting finger dents in my car. Jarvis, route to SHIELD's medical center on screen." Tony glanced at the display and adjusted his course by taking a sharp right that had Steve scrambling for the ‘oh shit’ handle. "What kind of security are we looking at there?”

 

“Sir, I’ve accessed their interior cameras. The facility security appears to be fairly light,, five individuals inside, one stationary at, what I assume, is the reception area. There are two walking a predictable path throughout the structure, most likely security. One is standing in a room where a reclining figure rests. My conjecture is this is an attending physician to Agent Coulson. There is a keypad entry system on the front door and monitoring cameras throughout.”

 

“Thanks Jarvis."

 

Steve studied the computer screen. Amazing, the leaps and bounds technology had taken since he’d been sleeping. “So, what is the plan?”

 

“Why Captain, who needs a plan? We walk right up to the front door and go in, of course.”

 

Tony grinned smugly, knowing that by the time they got there, Jarvis would have the door codes and control of the cameras. SHIELD really did need to learn to plug their security holes in their computer systems. Tony could show them how, for a price of course.

 

“Oh boy,” Steve muttered wondering what he’d gotten himself into. He also remembered his promise to keep Tony on a leash. Only they neglected to tell him how the hell he was supposed to do that.

 

Since Tony’s plan was a general ‘fuck you’ to SHIELD, he didn’t bother trying to hide. The billionaire parked his Rolls right in front of the non-descript looking building. Tony just shook his head. The place looked so ordinary that it practically screamed ‘secret things going on inside’.

 

He got out of the car and gestured to Steve. “You coming?” Then he shot the Captain a trademark Stark cocky grin.

 

Steve followed, still not convinced this was the best idea. But then there was something to be said for taking charge and demanding answers. Even he was getting tired of the runaround from Shield since the ‘incident,’ as they called it. By the time he caught up with Tony, he had keyed in the correct code and was opening the door.

 

The Captain really hoped that the agents didn’t shoot first and ask questions later. It was a good thing Tony had such distinctive looks. At least those inside would know who exactly was at the door from the security camera footage.

 

All SHIELD agents were well versed in that was known as ‘Stark protocol’. The man was a law unto himself, and agents were directed, upon seeing the billionaire, to immediately contact their superiors, not to engage him in conversation, and absolutely do not let him near their tech.

 

Not like that ever stopped Tony before.

 

All steve could hope to do was trail after Tony and try to minimize any damage.

 

He was met by two agents as he walked in. He merely nodded and smiled at them as they reached for their phones. He walked up to the reception desk where a woman sat going through some files.

 

The billionaire hooked his sunglasses with his finger and pulled them a down a little. He looked at the woman over the top edge of his lenses. “I’m here to see Agent Coulson. Be a good little lackey and take me back to his room.”

 

“Mr. Stark, I don’t have any idea who you’re referring to,” the woman began.

 

“Ma’am, we know he’s here. So you’ll save everyone a lot of trouble if you just give Mr. Stark what he wants. Believe me,” Steve interrupted.

 

“Yes. Its not a good idea to make me wait. I get bored easily and then things happen.” Tony grinned and leaned against the desk. Truthfully, he rather needed to because the room wavered a bit. Damned toxin, he really didn’t need it to kick in again.

 

Steve didn’t miss Tony’s slight hiss and the way he was letting the edge of the counter take his weight. He was just about to suggest Tony sit down in one of the chairs and let him take over when an inner door opened.

 

A familiar man walked out, and Steve knew they were busted. But then, since they were not trying to hide,  it came as no surprise really.

 

Finally, Tony thought, someone higher up on the SHIELD food chain. “Ah, Agent Sitwell, good to see you. I bet they’ve kept you busy stepping into Coulson’s rather formidable shoes. But you see, the thing is, we know he’s not dead. Imagine my surprise when I found out. Shocking really, that SHIELD would lie. But it's not like they’ve never done that before."

 

Sitwell said nothing. He stood and watched Tony talk, neither confirming nor rejecting anything Stark accused SHIELD of doing.

 

"Come on. You know what they say, time is money. So chop, chop. Coulson is back this way right?” Tony said, pointing down the hallway Sitwell had entered. Tony stepped forward and two lackeys moved to block his way. “Seriously? Okay, so this is how you want this to go down. Steve, be so kind and clear a path.”

 

“Tony, I don’t think this is the best way. I’d rather not get into a fight," he advised. He stepped between Stark and the agent to try using his sway instead. "Agent Sitwell, we just want to see Coulson and make sure he’s alright. It was rather deceitful of you to lie about his death, and we're still rather upset about that kind of manipulation. So please, just let us see him without any more fuss. We're not leaving until we do.”

 

Tony had to smother a laugh. Steve sounded so fucking earnest. Denying him this request would be like kicking a puppy. Once Steve made up his mind, it would take a force of nature to sway him.

 

“Fine. Follow me,” Sitwell said with absolutely no pretense. He led them through a  card-key doorway and into a short hall. “Clear out,” he informed everyone, after touching the device in his earpiece.

 

When the doors closed behind them, he stopped and faced them again, standing at his full height, shoulders back, chin up. He still felt small in stature compared to Stark’s ego and Rogers’ legends, but he remembered what someone once told him - that he’d never been lacking in character.

 

He was intimidated, yes, but he would not back down. This was for Phil.

 

“You would obviously conclude that I’ve been coached on this exact scenario,” Sitwell began as a disclaimer. “Myself and the entire medical team were coached on what to say to you, how to respond your questioning, and what truths are admissible.

 

“Agent Fallon has set up a protocol that runs as soon as your AI connects with our servers, Stark. We might not be able to stop you yet, but we can see what you see. We knew you were coming and could’ve moved Coulson before you arrived, especially since you used a slower method of transportation than your suit,” he added as a slight dig to the choice of a car over the speed of repulsor jets.

 

Damn. Tony felt a bit like a kid whose hand was caught in the cookie jar. That wouldn’t have stopped him though from finding out what he needed.

 

His eyes narrowed a little at the jab Sitwell threw in his direction. Like he could use the suit right now. Because throwing up inside the helmet would be ever so much fun. He'd been there, done that, didn’t want to do it again.

 

But okay, he got it. SHIELD was not comprised of the idiots he wanted to imagine. Most of them, anyway. Tony pretty much still detested Fury, but he had to give it to the man. After all, SHIELD was founded on Stark technology, thanks to Howard.

 

“Know that I am loyal to SHIELD first and to Director Fury,” Sitwell continued sternly before softening his voice, “but Agent Phil Coulson is not just my mentor, I consider him my friend as well, which is why I’m not going to feed you the SHIELD script.”

 

“Thank you," Steve replied. "I appreciate that, but you have to understand, Agent Coulson was my friend too. We deserved to know what happened. No one wanted him to sacrifice himself, not even to force us to get our act together. I’d like to think the Avengers would have fought the threat anyway.”

 

He lightly elbowed Tony in the ribs when the billionaire started to open his mouth, no doubt to put his foot in it. The last thing they needed was Tony to get into a pissing contest with Agent Sitwell.

 

“Director Fury didn’t lie about Coulson’s death,” he informed them, leading them through one last set of doors. Then the three men were standing in a large room that would’ve appeared to be an experimental lab full of medical and scientific equipment, if not for Agent Phil Coulson laying on a hospital bed in the midst of it.

 

“Dr. Ames has been coached to tell you that Agent Coulson’s heart stopped due to massive blood loss caused by a stab wound from Loki’s scepter which resulted in a stroke-like comatose condition. The lie is that Coulson has had no movement or brain activity since collapsing in the helicarrier and bleeding out approximately six and a half minutes post injury.”

 

Sitwell took a deep breath, parted his suit jacket, and placed his hands on his hip above his belt. He watched one of the monitors beside Phil for a few seconds, still saddened, before narrowing his eyes at Tony.

 

“Would you like the truth, Stark, even if your ego will take a hit?  Because you can’t fix this with your scientific intelligence and technological know-how.”

 

Steve looked at the pale form lying in the bed in front of him hooked up to machines he could not even put a name to. He’d seen soldiers in hospitals in much the same condition. They hadn’t pulled through.

 

Sitwell sure wasn’t making it easy to keep his temper, Tony thought. But then again, he did hack into their computers. The last thing Agent needed was for him to start an argument.

 

“Yeah, give me the truth. I imagine my ego will survive.” Tony might not know jack shit about medicine but he knew people that did. If it didn’t seem like Phil was getting the care he needed, Tony would not hesitate to throw the weight of his influence around on this mini-me version of Coulson.

 

It was hard for Tony to be here in this room. He looked down on the man and was so fucking grateful to have known him. Pepper was alive today because Coulson stepped in and steered her to safety. Tony still had nightmares as to what Stane would have done to Pep if he’d caught her. Tony was the one that sent Pepper spying in the first place and into that danger, but Coulson had been there to save her.

 

“Come on, Agent. I know you’re in there somewhere. Don’t make me have to tell Pepper you died again.” Tony sat down near the bed and waited for Sitwell to give them a full briefing as to Coulson’s condition.

 

Steve divided his attention between Tony and Sitwell. He didn’t miss Tony taking advantage of the chair in the room or him absently rubbing his afflicted arm. Bruce told Tony not to exert himself.  Steve could see it was starting to affect the billionaire.

 

Sitwell crossed his arms over his chest. “Dr. Ames confirmed that there was massive blood loss, but there was enough AB+ on the helicarrier to sustain Coulson through surgery.  Had the puncture wound Loki delivered been a hair to the left or to the right, it would’ve opened up his heart or sliced open Coulson’s spine. Instead, Agent Coulson's body is healing on schedule, save for a wicked scar front and back.

 

“It was possible that the loss of so much blood could’ve caused a stroke before they got him into the medical bay on the helicarrier. It could've put him in a comatose state or even rendered him brain dead. But look at this,” Sitwell said. He pointed one of the many monitors surrounding the bed that had six horizontal bars across it, each one with lines moving up and down, peaks and valleys of various levels. There was movement, so much movement that the read out  looked like it was charting an hellacious earthquake.

 

“During Coulson’s initial surgery on the helicarrier, a neurologist hooked him up to neuroimaging to see if they were operating in vain. The brainwaves showed Phil was still in there,” Sitwell confirmed. “And he has never reached a state of sleep since the whole ordeal. His brain is still working. Overtime, actually.

 

“The crux?” Jasper said, stepping to the foot of Phil’s bed to watch over the elite SHIELD Agent. “This isn’t a physical problem, Stark.  We’ve put the smartest doctors in the world on this. They’ve found no reason for his continued physical malady. This is Loki’s magic mumbo jumbo keeping Coulson down. So unless you can contact Thor and ask him to bring someone to undo this kind of sorcery," he said bitterly, “then you can’t help Coulson. SHIELD would’ve already found a way if it was something that could possibly be done with the resources available on this planet.”

 

Tony’s mind whirled with possible scenarios as he looked at the monitor. The thought that Phil was still in there but unable to rest made Tony sick. Did Loki lie to him, to all of them? Were they being manipulated even now? He found that hard to believe, since the trickster god had so much more to lose, but what if Tony was wrong? There was too much riding on this to take a gamble.

 

“Are you saying that Loki is still manipulating Coulson somehow, that Agent will burn out if this magic isn’t stopped?" Steve stood near the foot of the bed too and worriedly examined the monitor in question. "How much time are we talking?”

 

"We don't know," Sitwell said with a shrug.

 

“What if... How about you let me try," Tony offered. "I might have resources SHIELD doesn’t. I’m not going to just sit here and wait for Coulson to actually have that stroke. I’ll need to make some phone calls and see what I can arrange. It looks like you’ve tried everything you can think of,  so what have you got to lose?”

 

First thing Tony intended to do was talk to Thor’s brother, in the suit if need be, and find out if he’d been royally played. Fucking magic! Tony was really beginning to hate it. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand and tried to ignore his pounding head.

 

Sitwell stared at the floor, pretending to consider Stark’s offer.

 

Personally, he was not okay with this, no matter what Director Fury had just minutes ago ordered him to do – which was to give Tony Stark what he came for - but make him work for it.  They all knew SHIELD wouldn’t be able to stop the industrialist from being the loudest god damned whistle blower in the history of espionage. And Fury really didn’t want to deal with the fallout of Barton and Romanov finding out about Coulson being mostly alive either.  Their psyches were getting too unstable. But if Stark felt the need to share the information with them, and they retaliated, SHIELD would use it’s contingency plan to put both agents down.

 

Sitwell just thought it would be damn a shame if it came to that. Also, Coulson would be crushed.  Jasper knew Phil made both agents his personal responsibility, even if he’d never admit it aloud. He was their handler for a reason. As the only agent who gave them the respect and freedom they needed, he was the only leader they followed through choice.

 

But the reality of it all was that SHIELD really had done all they could for those three individuals, most of all, Phil Coulson.

 

“Alright, Stark. Today’s your lucky day. But there are a few stipulations: You get a week, and all of this stays off the radar. No press. No knowledge outside of high-clearance individuals. Coulson will be returned to us in the same state or better or you’ll be held responsible for his death.  Also, we get access to your physicians' reports on an hourly basis. Whatever you’re trying out will be coordinated with our doctors who will share information and records, so the same experiments aren’t repeated.

 

"If you agree,” Sitwell said, looking directly at Rogers, since Stark was not above lying to his face, “then I'll arrange for transport for Agent Coulson to a facility of your choosing. I'll notify the Director after the fact, but I make no promises he won't move on your facility. Whatever you're going to do, make it worth the effort, else you'll have nothing to show Fury for all this trouble.”

 

Well. Sitwell threw Tony completely for a loop. He’d expected a fight or the two of them to get kicked out. For this agent to give in so easily, they truly must be at the end of their rope. It took the billionaire a moment to pull himself together. Tony stood and rubbed his hands together.

 

“Done. I’ll agree to everything you demand on the condition Coulson gets moved to Stark Tower. I can have a state of the art med facility set up in hours. I’ve got some of the best security in the city and can fly in any specialist at a moments notice.” Tony would cheerfully lie to Sitwell but there was only one ‘specialist’ he had in mind to figure out what the hell was wrong with Coulson. One that had better figure it out quick or there would be some ass kicking of the Iron Man variety.

 

Tony just hoped he put his faith in the right god. Too much hung in the balance if he’d made a monumental mistake.

 

"Fine, I'll set it up," Sitwell agreed. "We've always been ready to move out at a moment's notice, so just give me the word and we'll transport Coulson to your Tower." Jasper walked over to stand in front of Stark and put on his most intimidating face. He hoped it wasn't too obvious that he was struggling for composure under Cap's scrutiny. "Don't screw this up. The Director has put a lot of time and energy into keeping Agent Coulson alive. He doesn't do that for just anyone."

 

“I owe Coulson. More than I can ever repay. He’ll get the best care that it is in my power to arrange.”

Please don’t let me screw this up, Tony said to himself. “Just give me a few hours and Jarvis will contact you when I have everything set. Steve, you coming?”

 

Tony looked over at the bed where Steve was grasping Phil’s hand. If the agent was awake at this point, he’d be geeking out to have his hero acting like this.

 

“Yep. I guess we’d better go and let Agent Coulson try and rest.” Steve released Phil’s hand with a fond pat.

 

“Hey, Steve. I’m surprised you didn’t just kiss him," Tony teased. "It always works in the fairy tales. Love’s true kiss and all.” He could not keep the smug grin off his face.

 

“You are not funny," Steve said with a scowl. "No matter what you pay people to tell you.”

 

“Fine, I get it, not funny at all. But yeah, we need to leave. I have a lot to get set up.” Tony turned and walked out of the room.

 

Steve paused and held out his hand to Sitwell. “Thank you for trusting us. I’ll make sure everything is alright.”

 

"Thanks, Captain." Sitwell shook his hand, suddenly feeling the rush of blood in his ears.

 

So this is what Phil was always going on about. He finally understood. He cleared his throat and resisted the urge to wipe his now-sweating hand on his trousers. After both men left, and the door to Phil's room was closed, Jasper actually lifted his hand up to nose to smell it. Maybe Captain America had his own scent - heroism and charisma wrapped up in one. Feeling immediately stupid, he dropped his hand and looked at Phil, expecting the mocking jab that wasn't there.

 

"Glad you didn't see that." Sitwell took out his phone and auto-dialed Fury's communicator. As it rang, he looked at Phil. "When you wake up, you're never gonna believe who watched you while you were sleeping, buddy."

 

~*~

 

As they headed out to the car, Steve watched Tony busily typing away on his StarkTablet. He was also talking a mile a minute to Jarvis through his earpiece to get everything set up for Agent Coulson’s transfer. He really didn’t like how much Tony was squinting behind his sunglasses.

 

Then the engineer stopped at the vehicle and leaned against one of the doors.

 

“I don’t care what they say, Jarvis. I want that equipment delivered to the tower by three o’clock. Well, tell them if they ever want to do business with Stark Industries again they will. You know what? Fuck that. How much stock do I own in that company? That much huh? You tell that rep that unless he and his CEO want to be out on their asses by closing time, they’d better do some ass kissing of their own.”

 

Tony disconnected the call and rubbed his forehead. Shit...when was the last time he ate anything? His vision greyed out accompanied by a wave of dizziness. Get your phones out, my adoring public, because Tony Stark might be about to lose his cookies on the sidewalk, he thought with a grimace. Wouldn’t be the first time.

 

Steve saw Tony pale and sweat break out on his brow. He hurried to the billionaire’s side ready to help steady him. He was waved him off with a deep scowl.

 

“Would you just let me help you?” Steve said, laying a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

 

“Fine. You can drive.” Tony held out the keys.

 

“Wait, what? I don’t have a valid license anymore.” Steve protested. “Isn’t there someone I can call?”

 

Oh hell no, Tony thought. I call Happy, Happy tells Pepper, and that is one cluster fuck I don’t need.

 

“Just drive. You still know how, right? You’ll be fine. You drove all kinds of military vehicles in all those newsreels. Besides, you’re Captain America. What cop is going to give you a ticket?”

 

“Okay, if only to keep you from arguing anymore.” He took the keys and waited until Tony was seated on the passenger side before sliding into the driver’s seat. Steve started the motor and carefully pulled out into traffic. This was not unlike combat driving but with a lot less land mines and mortar fire.

 

Despite Tony’s much-underappreciated commentary along the way, they made it back to the Tower without incident. Jarvis' help with navigation was certainly useful. Steve drove into the garage and parked the luxury car, breathing a sigh of relief that they'd encountered no trouble along the way.

 

Tony got out and got back on his phone. He was setting up to house Agent coulson a few floors below theirs in the medical wing. The damage those levels sustained was minimal and living quarters were already roughed in. The deliveries would start soon and he wanted to oversee their installation.

 

Tony cursed as he keyed in the wrong information for the third time.

 

Steve looked on as Tony grew more frustrated. The billionaire’s hand was shaking a little and he could not bear to watch anymore. Steve grabbed Tony’s wrist as they stopped outside the elevator.

 

“Enough Tony. You need to rest after Dr. Banner looks at you.”

 

“Can’t." Tony pulled his arm away and entered the elevator. "I have to get all this set up.”

 

If Tony was going to be stubborn, the Steve would just have to go over his head. “Jarvis?”

 

“Yes, Captain Rogers? How may I be of service?”

 

“You know what all has to be done before Agent Coulson arrives right?’

 

“Of course, Captain,” was the droll reply.

 

“Okay. Then you do that. Consult Dr. Banner if you have any questions. Oh and inform Bruce about everything that is going on. Tell him we’re on our way up now and he needs to take a look at Tony.” Steve ignored the death glare from the other side of the elevator.

 

“That is so not fair," Tony pouted. "I’m okay.”

 

“Who ever told you I played fair? And no, you are not alright. You’re pale, shaking, and even I can see that you have a bad headache. I used to get migraines, so I know the signs. When we get to your suite, you will let Bruce look at you and you will get some rest.” Steve’s tone brooked no arguments.

 

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Tony stepped out of the elevator ignoring Rogers. “Bruce, I’m hooooome,” he called out, flopping down on the sofa and closing his weary eyes. “Oh, and Loki? Get your ass out here too I’ve got a few questions.”

 

Tony he loosened his tie. Trying to ignore his headache, he flung off his suit jacket, not caring when it landed on the floor.

 

Steve rolled his eyes and picked up Tony’s jacket, hanging it over a chair. He wondered if putting up with Stark was his punishment for any past misdeeds. The Captain also hoped that Loki had some satisfactory answers for the questions they now had.

 

Then there was Coulson. It disturbed Steve more than a little to see such a strong-willed man laid so low. Steve had to still resist the urge to find Fury and punch him in the face, for nothing else than the destruction of Coulson's much loved trading cards.

 

To know he’d been the hero of the SHIELD Senior Agent made him feel warm inside, not embarrassed, as he usually was when confronted by a fan. Phil was just so genuinely earnest about his hero worship. How could Steve feel anything but flattered? Steve vowed that he would somehow replace the cards that Fury damaged in his bid to get them to come together as a team.

 

This time, he would even sign them too.

 

A muffled argument could be overheard in hushed tones coming from Tony’s bedroom. One voice took the care to try to quietly but forcefully discuss the situation. The other had the arrogant quality of an other-worldly prince who would not answer to any demand made by a mortal, certainly not one made by combining his name and the word ‘ass’ in the same sentence.

 

Thor could be heard sighing heavily. There was the rustling of bedding followed by struggling, mostly coming from Loki, who ever-so-properly demanded to be ‘unhanded this moment’. Loki appeared moments later, ass-up, carried over Thor’s shoulder.

 

“Petulant child,” Thor said, gritting his teeth.

 

“Overbearing oaf,” Loki snarled.

 

The dark-haired prince of Asgard was dumped in the middle of the living room, landing on his somewhat unsteady feet. He was disheveled with dark circles under his eyes. Loki’s mouth was pinched tight in frustration and his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“And to think that our servants used to draw straws as to who would wake you for hunts at dawn,” Thor explained. “You are worse than waking a sleeping dragon.”

 

“Shut up,” Loki replied. He turned his viper-like glare at the billionaire and punctuated each word as he spoke. “What do you want, Stark?”

 

Tony tried to wipe the grin off his face at the method of Loki's arrival in the room.

 

“Well, Coulson is alive and in a coma. SHIELD is at a loss as to why he won’t wake up. According to their brain scans, his mind is in overdrive, not resting, and they don’t know why. They suspect magic," Tony said accusingly. "So my question is: What the fuck? What the hell did you do to him when you ran your big glowy stick through his chest?”

 

Tony crossed his arms over his own chest covering the arc reactor, thankful that it blocked the staff’s influence. He definitely caught Loki’s attention when he described Agent Coulson's condition. The trickster even paled a little.

 

He narrowed his eyes, his vision seemingly turning inward as his mind ran through many possible reasons for Coulson’s described state, none of which were remotely desirable. He must have been quiet for too long, staring into possibilities, when he felt Thor’s hand on his shoulder.

 

“Brother?”

 

“This is no magic,” Loki said carefully, as if discussing the situation with an invisible colleague. He was intrigued, physically sickened by some of the possibilities, but intrigued. “I do not torment those who suffer the finality of dark magic. It is not wise.”

 

“Really?” Bruce added as he walked into the room, headed for Tony. “I think that’d be the highlight of your day.”

 

Loki’s tone changed back to one of irritability. “And you think I am the disagreeable one?”

 

Thor rubbed his temples. “Banner, the way my brother explained it to me once is when dark magics are summoned, they are utilized and transferred immediately, lest it contaminate the conjurer. Is that right?”

 

“Mostly,” Loki said. “When I summon dark energies, someone dies, and they do it quickly. I don’t ravage their mind for the thrill.”

 

Watching the two siblings bicker made Tony glad for once he’d been an only child.

 

Loki pouted, watching Bruce fuss over taking Stark’s pulse and temperature. His eyes were fixated on the glowing arc reactor under Stark’s shirt.

 

Tony didn’t miss Loki staring at him. He covered the slightly uncomfortable feeling it gave him by remarking on it.  “See something you like?”

 

Then Bruce shut him up by sticking a digital thermometer in his mouth.

 

For which Steve was grateful. What was Tony thinking flirting with Loki? It was like poking a tiger with a stick. He decided to get them back on topic or they’d never get anywhere.

 

“So what’s causing it then? Tony thought maybe you all could figure it out. Coulson is being brought here this evening. Tony is fixing up a room a few floors down down, and the man deserves our help.” Steve hated putting any trust at all in Loki but what choice did they have? The god was the only authority on magic they had access to.

 

Loki tore his eyes from the arc reactor, seeming to miss the arrogant flirtation for how deeply he was in thought. He then looked at Rogers, giving him a quick once over, then frowning. Clearly irritated again, Loki shrugged at him. "I said I did not know. Perhaps when your spy arrives, more will be discovered about his condition."

 

“Bruce, stop fussing I’m fine. I have too much I need to get done. Everything has to be ready when Agent gets here.” Tony pushed Bruce’s hands aside and tried to stand up. The vertigo that hit him was so severe he couldn’t tell which way was up. “Fuck!” Tony uttered as he pitched forward.

 

Everyone but Loki surged forward to catch Stark before he face-planted into the unforgiving marble flooring. It was the doctor who succeeded, which was Loki's bet if he had one.

 

"Okay," Bruce stated firmly, with heart beating wildly in his chest. He righted the man in his arms and sat him on the cold surface of the floor. He steadied Tony's head with both hands wrapping around his jaw and neck and made Tony look him. "I'm going to fuss over you now. And if you don't like it, you're going to have to deal with someone mean and green. Fair warning:  I'm getting angry with how flippantly you're treating your own health, Tony."

 

Bruce looked up at Steve, slightly concerned that he might have embarrassed Tony in front of his teammates - friends - whatever classification they fell into.  And he certainly didn't want Loki to see Tony so vulnerable. "Steve, can you help Tony to his bed, please? Loki and I are going to have a chat about antidotes."

 

“Fine, fine. I give up okay? No need to get all green about it. I’ll be a good little engineer.” Tony glared in Steve’s general direction when he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

 

“I’ll make sure Tony gets some rest, Dr. Banner. Come on. Upsy daisy.” Steve grasped Tony under the arms and carefully hauled the billionaire to his feet.

 

“Can you not treat me like a five year old?” Tony grumbled. He hated the fact that he had to hang onto Steve when the floor tried to tilt underneath him.

 

“Then don’t act like one. Let us help you, Stark.” Steve practically carried his ill teammate into his bedroom. The Captain got Tony onto the bed with only a cursory protest. He reached for the buttons on Tony’s shirt.

 

“Gee, Cap. I don’t think I’m really up for that right now. Besides, I didn’t think you were the type.” Tony arched his brow and grinned despite his pounding head.

 

Steve huffed in exasperation. “Will you just stop? I really doubt you want to sleep in your suit.”

 

“Yeah, you’re right. Go ahead and strip me. Just watch the hands, mister.” Tony swore Steve just made it so easy to tease him. Especially when the large blond super soldier colored so delightfully red.

 

Loki followed the Captain and his charge. Not because he was interested in Stark or the constant babbling that went everywhere the man did. He did it to escape Banner. Who, of course, was following behind Thor, who was in step behind Loki.

 

The dark prince would've found it comical, save for the part where he was to provide all the answers. He was a moment away from shouting this to the good doctor when self-preservation kicked in. Shant play out one's hand lest he be left empty.

 

And Loki needed all the leverage he could get. He studied Stark, laying on the large bed, being undressed by the good Captain of America. He frowned when Rogers fumbled a bit with the buttons, a slight blush creeping up his neck.

 

"Don't tell me you really are a virgin," Loki muttered, rolling his eyes. "It is just as Barton said."

 

Steve grit his teeth and focused on getting Tony out of his pants. Then shook his head. He was even starting to sound like Tony. Steve had the added joy of resisting the urge to fling his shield at Loki’s head. The situation was really trying his patience, especially when the billionaire’s muffled laughter rang in his ears.

 

“Not one word Tony, not one single word.” Steve warned as he pulled the thick duvet over his prone form.

 

Tony carefully propped himself up on the mound of pillows and tried to look innocent. All kidding aside, he hadn’t felt this badly since his bout of Palladium poisoning.

 

"Hey princess," Bruce said, clapping his hands together twice at Loki. "Focus. Antidote"

 

Loki literally snarled back at him. "I would need components you have not here on Earth if..." he punctuated with a finger in the air, "if I even knew what to try to counteract."

 

Bruce didn't waiver. He was as incessant as Loki. "I know enough to realize this isn't something that is going to resolve with time. This is a combination of microorganisms and toxins meant to drag this out to cause suffering. And I'm glad it did that to you. I actually am. But I will not allow it to ravage my friend. So you will help us."

 

"Time, exertion, malnutrition," Loki named off, counting each on his fingers. "Those are his enemies. At least, they were to me. You want to know what it is," Loki spat out. "Be my guest. I'd be more than happy to have Thor usher you to Asgard so you can question the alchemist himself on the very thing that caused me what seemed like never-ending suffering and humiliation."

 

Bruce knew he'd gone too far, even before Thor gave him that look. The one that said they'd have another round of physical confrontation if Bruce didn't stop being such a dick. So he lowered his voice and talked to the carpet instead. It was the best he could do when the Hulk was right there, ready to spring out of the gate before the bars were even raised.  

 

He turned away from the psychotic god and stared at Tony. It would do his friend no good to lose it.

 

"Look, I spent some time in the lab," Bruce admitted, rolling his shoulders to release some of the tension creeping into the muscles there. "The laws of nature say venom has antivenom, bacteria has antiseptics and disinfectants. But this is something entirely different. Under the scope, hell, even in the bottom of the trash can, it doesn't act like anything I've seen before. You must know what it is. It came from your people."

 

"You think so," Loki mocked. "Perhaps I should speak with Stark. If we share our experience over this torturous form of punishment, discover his human version of symptoms, maybe then I can devise a way to help him. I am, after all, your only hope. Aren't I?"

 

He caught Thor flinching at his mocking tone and knew he'd won.

 

Bruce rubbed the stubble growing on his chin, vaguely aware of the gray hairs beginning to show amidst the dark. He was getting too old to deal with children. Truly.  And his skin was almost entirely green. The blood rushing through his veins was echoing in his ear drums.

 

Steve’s eyes widened as he took in the green cast to Bruce’s skin. They so didn’t need the Hulk to make an appearance.

 

Tony watched anxiously as Bruce got more upset and frustrated. He knew it was due largely in part because the scientist was concerned about him. Also that Loki seemed to not be able to help himself from baiting Dr. Banner.

 

Tony latched onto the bedpost, hauled himself up and ignored Steve’s frown. The billionaire grabbed Bruce’s hand and tugged slightly.

 

“Hey. It’s okay, Bruce. Nothing to get upset over. Sure, Loki is being a dick. But what did we expect, for him to trust us right away, for us to trust him? If tall, dark, and deadly wants a one-on-one chat, I’m game. To tell you the truth, I feel like crap and would like him to figure out what is going on. He did kind of offer to help. Besides, he owes me.”

 

“Sorry to interrupt sir, but the items you ordered are being delivered. The workmen need to know where the equipment needs to be set up.” Jarvis chimed in.

 

“Shit. Okay, I’ll just...” Tony started to say as he rubbed a hand on his aching head.

 

"Let me get it," Bruce said, already walking away from Tony. "I need to … go."

 

The urgency in his voice was apparent. So wasn't the disappointment. He was used to it, the rage getting in the way. Only this time, he wished it wasn't jeopardizing his only friend's health. Loki had the answers. Bruce was certain. At least the answers to his questions about what could help and hinder Tony's health. He just had to find the right leverage. And the Other Guy was the one thing that worked the last time they faced off against Loki.

 

Maybe he didn't have as much control as he thought. So he left the room without looking back, hoping Cap or Thor would protect Tony. The man couldn't stand on his own. How could he possibly defend himself?

 

Bruce hated depending on others, but he had to. He had to, else Tony's bedroom suite would become as much a disaster area as the lower penthouse floor, and Loki would certainly become a life-sized hole in the wall to match the one in the floor below them.

 

Unfortunately, he needed the prick alive. He knew Loki knew it too. And that pissed Bruce off even more.

 

The elevator chimed and Bruce walked in. A large meaty fist punched the button for the floor Coulson would be brought to.

 

Bruce really wanted that big bag of weed right now.

 

Back in the bed chamber, Thor walked around the foot of Stark's bed. He gently pushed the man back down towards the mattress. "Rest my friend. We can make arrangements while you sleep." He lifted the coverlet expectedly and waited for Tony to climb in.

 

Tony grumbled something about pushy otherworldly babysitters but flopped back down on the mattress. He even allowed Thor to cover him up. Once more propped up on the pile of pillows, Tony could not help sighing. At least the room stopped spinning.

 

“Okay, see? I’m all comfy, tucked in, and now you going to tell me a bedtime story, right?” Tony replied with just a hint of sarcasm. He was so not used to being taken care of.

 

"A bedtime story," Thor said, actually thinking about it.

 

"Absolutely not," Loki demanded.

 

Thor looked over his shoulder at his brother, huffed out a laugh, and then focused again on Stark. "I have many stories, friend, but perhaps another time when your need for rest isn't so apparent. I will share with you that my brother is barely standing right now. He is as exhausted as you are and shouldn't be much trouble."

 

"Leave us now," Loki demanded, pursing his lips in a pout and crossing his arms over his chest.

 

"I will go with the understanding that I will be right outside the door. One word of alarm, and I won't hesitate to enter."

 

"Shall we designate a safe word, Stark?"

 

“That depends, I never found that I needed one yet." Tony replied with a wink. "Want to test it?”

 

“You know what? I really don’t want to know.” Steve frowned. “I’ll just find the kitchen and make you some soup. I know you haven’t eaten anything recently. Loki said not eating would make the poison worse. So I’ll just, yeah, leave now.”

 

Steve gave Loki a look that clearly stated ‘hurt Tony and eat my shield’ then he walked out of the room. The Captain had a phone call to make.

 

Tony could not help grinning at Steve’s hasty retreat. “You know, Loki, if you are really interested in putting your money where your mouth is, there’s a box in the closet with some interesting things in it.”

 

Tony chose not to listen to his inner voice at that moment. It was whining something about self restraint and not daring a god.

 

Loki tucked his hands behind his back and leaned against them on the wall. He looked towards the closet with said toys of an intimate nature and raised his chin in thought before his eyes danced back to Stark. "You would bed me here, now, with all your friends outside the door, knowing what you are doing and with whom?"

 

“Well, it was a thought. Mind willing but body weak and all that. Pity too.”

 

Loki snorted, some amusement and a little resignation in the tone. Now that they were alone with the door closed, city light glowing outside, it very was quiet. Almost peaceful.

 

"I should call your bluff, Stark." But instead of advancing, Loki very slowly slid down the wall, easing into a squat while still using the wall for support. His eyes never left Tony's except once to stare at the arc reactor before returning his gaze again. "Tell me. How is it you're still alive? Your violent friend said it well: You truly are careless with your person. This right here is one of the most foolish things I've witnessed in a long while."

 

“How am I still alive? Fuck all if I know. I’ve been kidnapped, gotten into more drunken brawls than I can remember, gotten shot, blown up and even poisoned before. So either I am exceedingly lucky or someone up there likes me. Though I can’t figure out why. Oh and lets not forget my little jaunt into another dimension shall we?”

 

Tony paused to shudder. He doubted that the feeling of going through the rift and seeing that vast bit of other space would ever leave him. Sometimes, he could still feel that aching cold seeping into his bones...into his very soul.

 

“That’s a memory I could definitely do without."

 

Loki let the silence linger until finally he said, "Tell me what you saw."

 

"Something was out there. I got the feeling I was being watched. Creeped me the hell out. Then I fell. Damn good thing the Hulk caught me because the suit was toast. They tell me I stopped breathing. So yeah, been dead before and came back.”

 

Tony had no idea why he was telling Loki all this. He tended to babble when tired, and also, he supposed if there was anyone else who could understand what it was like to be in that ‘other place,’ it was Loki.

 

"It changes you, doesn't it?" Loki said rhetorically.  He stretched out his legs and sat fully on the floor, back against the wall. The large bed chamber gave adequate space between him and Stark's bed. He could see the door and the man lounging on the large bed and still have an escape plan out the window if needed. Of course, he hadn't quite worked out how to break the fall.

 

"You live the life as a son of royalty," Loki commented. "Luxury, wealth, prestige, a higher education for your above-average intelligence, and all the trouble that befalls one who belongs to a monarchy of sorts. You sound ungrateful."

 

Yeah...Tony thought look what it fucking got him. An alcoholic, abusive father. A life of excess where he tried to drown his pain with alcohol, drugs and endless, meaningless parties. So what does he do when fate hands him a second chance? Fall back into his old habits that’s what.

 

"Yet with all your intelligence and resources, you fear what is beyond your atmosphere. I suppose that is wisdom, given your glimpse at the void beyond your world, but you destroyed your enemy.  You overpowered them with weapons unknown to other races." The arc reactor was like a beacon. He couldn't stop staring at it. "And you created that. I heard what you told Thor about the betrayal of a father figure, your torture and captivity, and your eventual form of patricide.  These are all things I can relate to, eerily so. "

 

Loki pointed his chin at the glowing disc in Tony's chest. "I will help you manage the toxins in your body if you tell me how you came by the idea of that mechanism in your chest."

 

Tony wrapped his hand protectively around the arc reactor shining through his t-shirt. He took a deep steadying breath and answered.

 

“The idea for the arc reactor? Well, when I was fucking hooked up to a car battery to keep the metal shards in my chest from slicing my heart to ribbons, I can get creative pretty quickly. I took apart several of my company's missiles to get the parts to build a better magnetic field to hold the shards in place. I then got home and refined the process and created another one with the same elements. Palladium was the only ingredient I had to work with at first. It powered this device but ended up slowly poisoning me.” Tony paused and closed his eyes.

 

“It was that second arc reactor that my mentor ripped out of my chest in an attempt to create his own powered armor. He left me to die on my living room couch. He fucking raised me after my parents died. Had always been part of the family. Obadiah paid more attention to me than my own father did. But hell, I’m wandering off topic.” Tony scooted a bit further up on the pillows trying to get comfortable. Seemed like he was one big ache.

 

"So back to this little gem of an invention. Yeah, the second version, while working great, was killing me so I had to come up with something else. Leave it to my old man to give me the clues I needed to create a new element. Crazy me, building a particle accelerator in my workshop, but I didn’t have a lot of choice. Could have blown up my whole house, but it worked. I was able to create vibranium. Made a new arc reactor, and it is what you see here. So far so good. My heart’s still beating and I can power the suit.” Tony leaned back more than a little exhausted physically and emotionally after his explanation.

 

Loki listened closely to every word. His mind quickly deduced just how clever, resourceful, obstinate, and courageous one had to be suffer the events in Stark’s life and prevail.

 

Not that the measly human deserved much recognition. He cared not. Not really. Except that there were a few similarities scattered here and there that mirrored Loki’s own life. Somewhat.

 

Stark managed to produce something out of nothing but desperation and a few annotations left behind, like breadcrumbs through an infinite forest. Discovering magic had been much the same for Loki. He had to struggle, fight, and bleed for it, almost dying many times from the very thing he wanted so much to create. Like what Stark described, only Loki’s life hadn’t depended on it, except that it did, but in a different manner. Without magic, Loki would now be worthless, and he knew this.

 

But they were nothing alike, he told himself for the third time.

 

“Vibranium,” Loki repeated carefully. “That’s what you call it.”  

 

He fell silent for a while. Then he stood up and walked to the edge of the bed.

 

“This knowledge your father passed down to you, where did he get it? Because from my perspective,” Loki stated, waiting until Tony looked him in the eye, “it emits the same electro-vibration energy the Tesseract does. It is even the same color. You are barely tapping into its possibilities, isn’t that true?”

 

Loki stalked Tony around the side of the bed, fingers trailing along the fabric coverlet. “Barton tells me you installed another of these arc reactors containing “vibranium” in it to power your building here. Same principle as that in your chest, right? It is why I chose your Tower to open the portal, Stark. You supplied the conduit for unlimited energy.”

 

Loki stood above Tony, barely holding himself back from reaching out for that vast amount of energy veiled beneath a thin layer of clothing.

 

The energies from that damned cube and his arc technology couldn't be similar. It pissed him off that this Tower was targeted because Tony built it to run on that technology, that all this happened because he created the base for it to occur. He meant it to be an answer for clean, sustainable energy not a freaking alien magnet.

 

“So when you commented that you felt as if someone were watching you while you were up there,” Loki pointed at the stars, “I would say you were absolutely right. There are a lot of interested parties looking for ways to parcel out limitless energy. And if you are the only sentient being controlling it, well, they will easily find a way to control you. And when they do, they will control the Nine Realms and beyond.”

 

Oh just fucking perfect, Tony thought.  “So you’re telling me I’m not just paranoid? That they are out to get me?”

 

Loki's grin was lightning quick and just as deadly. "Welcome to my world."

 

Shit, he wanted a drink. This information was almost too hard to swallow. Tony’s mind was whirling with the horrific possibilities.  Also, he was not finished with the modifications to the mark VIII or all the rest of the suits, which left Tony feeling decidedly underprotected.

 

"Fret not," Loki pacified, turning to pace. "You dealt them a considerable blow by eliminating nearly all their Chitauri forces, which was, of course another interest. Midgardians have unusual weapons, so they must find a new army to fight for them."

 

The thought somewhat sickened Loki too, but he was able to ignore his anxiety. "They will most likely come again, Stark, but for a different purpose. Your earth no longer shelters the Tesseract, so they may try to lay siege to Asgard or come here first to aid them in doing so.

 

"But let us both be honest. You'd be no match for them like this," Loki admitted.

 

“No shit. I can barely sit up. I’m no match right now for your average toddler. I can’t be laid up here. I have too much to do." Tony was not going to even think about aliens wanting a piece of him, he simply wasn’t.  "Jarvis, status on Coulson’s arrival.”

 

“Dr. Banner is overseeing the deliveries and installation of the medical equipment. Everything is going according to schedule,” Jarvis replied.

 

“Well, that’s one thing that is going right today. Now about me. How are we going to fix this, because seriously, dying was so not on my to do list.”

 

Loki suddenly saw a new reason to help Stark out with his predicament. He didn't hold the Avenger's and their special skills and talents in high regard, but they were the only soldiers standing between him and Thanos. If Loki could strengthen them, it would be in his best interest to do so until he fully recovered. If he was to stay here on this nascent planet, and they'd provide him haven until his magic was restored, then he would have the strongest champions defending him if it was in his power to make it so.

  
  


 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Steve went into the kitchen area and started rummaging through the refrigerator. He was amazed by the variety of items there and quickly pulled out the ingredients to make some chicken soup. It was something he’d watched his mother do many times. When he was a child, they had to make every penny count. There was no running to the store or ordering out from any restaurant that delivered like everyone did today.

 

And Steve hated the taste of canned soup. Besides, he needed something to do to keep himself occupied.

 

Tony was the most frustratingly stubborn, narcissistic, generous and selfless person Steve had ever met. The man was an enigma. Steve was at a loss as to what he could do to help with the whole situation.

 

He only hoped Tony was right in putting his trust in an untrustworthy entity, such as Loki. Steve could see the fascination with the Asgardian god -- Loki was magnetically charismatic and handsome. That was definitely a dangerous combination for one such as Stark.

 

Steve sighed and pulled out his cell phone. He tried calling Agent Romanoff again. His first call had gone unanswered. She deserved to know Agent Coulson was alive. Her voice mail came on again, so with a heavy sigh, Steve put the phone away.

 

No one else seemed to need him, so Steve began to chop the vegetables to make the broth. Once it was finished, he hoped he could get Tony to eat it. This recipe was the one that his mom would use to tempt Steve when he was too sick to eat anything else. It just might work on the hardheaded engineer.

 

~*~

 

Tony felt somewhat unsettled by the way he was being scrutinized by Loki. All flirting aside, the trickster was a force to be reckoned with, even in his diminished state. If Tony needed to cover the fact he was freaking out about the whole situation by being flippant, who could blame him.

 

“So, can’t you use some kind of Asgardian magic to cure me? I’ve been told you are the go to guy for that sort of thing. Or do I need to sign something first, in blood perhaps?”

 

"Asgardian magic," Loki repeated. Truly, the human had no knowledge of the Nine Realms. There were two thing that could probably cure the man immediately, but Loki had access to neither, nor could he waltz into those regions of the Nine to get them. He didn't want to heal Stark immediately either. He needed to buy time to strengthen himself before discarding the only bargaining chip he had.

 

"I am no healer," Loki admitted, "but I may be able to delay the effects of the poison, ease your pain, in a matter of speaking, while Thor and I discuss other options. I'm sure your good doctor will also chime in. I will say," Loki mentioned, flashing another smile, "that I am your best hope. All I ask in return is to continue to utilize this safe haven you've offered. Oh, and one more thing, I'd like one of those."

 

He pointed to Stark's chest then crossed his arms and waited.

 

Tony tried not to laugh hysterically. He knew all things came with a price but, oh hell no! “You’ve gotta be kidding me? No fucking way! I may be helping you, I may think you are one hot piece of ass, but trust you? Not yet. You want to repay me for taking you in and potentially committing treason? Then help cure this poison, but no one - no one - touches my tech.”

 

Tony could not keep the snarl out of his voice. There was no way he was ever letting anyone get their hands on his inventions to cause destruction again. It was bad enough knowing that due to his arc reactor tech, Loki was able, with the Tesseract, to open that damned portal to begin with. To have Loki possess a reactor would give him new nightmares on top of his already frequent night time Technicolor replay of all his mistakes.

 

Tony hated being stuck in this bed, unable to retreat from this uncomfortable conflict, so he rolled onto his side instead, turning his back on Loki. Perhaps not very wise, but it was his only option. He didn’t want to face his demons yet again.

 

Loki chuckled and watched the man roll over. Is that what he looked like when pouting about his own circumstances? He dismissed the thought and walked around to the other side of the mattress.

 

“Barton said you weren’t as lackadaisical with your technology as you are with your person. Probably best for your planet in the long run,” he mentioned as a side note, needling Tony just that little bit more, because it was fun.

 

Loki knew that having pride in one’s creation was paramount to keeping rights to its benefits. Only a fool would duplicate or give away such a superior invention. Still, he’d get his desire one way or another. Anyone could be manipulated.  And right now, what Tony Stark wanted more than anything was cessation from his pain and fatigue.  Loki might be able to do something about that, at least temporarily, give Stark a glimpse of what Loki had to offer him.

 

He stared at Stark’s reclined form and was surprised when a subtle surge of lust surged through him. Not for Stark in particular, of course. It had just been so very long since a warm body willingly submitted to him, repeatedly opened itself to him at his beck and call throughout the night. Loki wasn’t above such basest desires, no matter what he said to Thor.

 

And he'd bedded far worse.

 

Stark, as least, was attractive, for a Midgardian.

 

But death and torture could snuff out even the strongest physical needs. And Loki wasn’t that far removed from near-death to entertain the thought of intimacy another moment more. He could, however, exploit it.

 

Loki closed his eyes and honed his senses, focusing on the energy in the room: the digital clock on the tablet beside Stark’s head, the lighting on the ceiling, the television mounted on the wall, the electricity running through the wires in the Tower, the magnets in various devices in the bed and bath chambers, and lastly, on the glowing light in Stark’s chest. He called them to him, feeling the energy answer and rush to him like tendrils of living energy.

 

The lights in the room flickered softly. Loki tipped his chin up, a ghost of a smile playing across his relaxed face at the invincible feeling of gathering magic to him. It was gold and emerald, warm as a ray of sun, soft as a gentle breath of spring.  

 

But then the pain began, and every other sensation felt like shards of glass being ground into his soul.

 

He sighed in frustration and refused to flinch. Fatigue manifested in this undesireable combination of pleasure and pain. Exhaustion was such a bother.

 

As quickly as he could, already feeling the gathered magic literally slipping through his fingers, Loki crawled across the bed towards the man. "I offer you a gift, Stark. Will you trust me enough to share with you?"

 

Tony turned when he felt the bed dip. Rolling on his back again, he looked at Loki more than a bit apprehensively.

 

For once in his life, he was unsure what to do now that his bluff had been called. Flirting and innuendos were one thing. In fact, they were a part of Tony, something that had irritated Pepper to no end, but he felt a wash of heat when Loki's intense emerald gaze focused solely on him. The room shrank down to encompass nothing but the form of the god kneeling above him. Tony nervously licked his lips. He thought for a second, but really already knew how he’d answer.

 

“Yes,” he answered, the word sounding more like a question and affirmation.

 

Tony knew it was foolish to trust, but to refuse Loki now meant he might not get a second offer. He just hoped he survived the experience.

 

A breath of amusement slipped through Loki’s lips at the apprehension in Stark’s eyes. This Midgardian truly bordered on suicidal. But killing Stark would get him nowhere, especially now that they’d established some kind of understanding.

 

In a swirl of movement, he swung a leg over Stark’s midsection and immediately settled back, pinning the man’s thighs down with his weight and establishing his rightful dominance.

 

Tony was pretty sure he forgot how to breathe when straddled.

 

Loki’s left hand held Stark’s shoulder down upon the pillowed bedding, his thumb on Stark’s collar bone just beneath his shirt. With his right hand, he cupped the withering magic in his palm.

 

Tony could not take his eyes off the slight glow emanating from Loki’s right hand.  

 

Loki leaned low, any personal space once coveted was now shattered by their nearness. His eyes flicked to Stark’s mouth before he ordered himself to focus on the reason he was so near to this Midgardian.

 

For one moment Tony was sure Loki was going to kiss him. Was that what the billionaire wanted to happen? Hell of a thing to cross off one’s bucket list though: kissed by a god. Tony’s attention riveted back to Loki when he spoke.

 

“I offer you this,” Loki began. He slipped his hand underneath Stark’s shirt and did not hesitate to spread his fingers across the warm skin he felt underneath palm. It was more pleasant than Loki anticipated. He guided some of the energy below to pool deep in the man's pelvis and stir with possibility.  The remaining magic he guided up from Stark's navel towards the arc reactor, commanding it to spread out like warm liquid through the Midgardian's body. His eyes flicked down to the blue glow of the arc reactor and Loki's greed kicked in. If he could only access that much energy...

 

He reached out for it with his senses, his fingertips touching the edge of the device. It hummed under his touch.

 

Oh god, Tony thought. He managed to suck in a harsh breath when Loki touched him. He could literally feel some of the fatigue and achiness drain from his body, only to be replaced with what Tony could only describe as a low level electrical current. But it was also warm somehow and… oh...

 

The jolt of arousal that sparked in Tony was immediate and addicting. He wanted to thrust up into the long lean body draped across him for more of that heady sensation. That warmth suffused his very being. It was like basking in the light of the sun. But then Loki’s hand touched his arc reactor.

 

What the trickster did not expect was the literal spark that burst from Tony's chest. He hissed and pulled his hand back, the energy arching up between Stark's body and his palm. Feeling decidedly amateur, Loki nearly slammed his hand back down on top of the arc reactor - dispersing a channel of blue light and heat vertically up and down Tony's spine from skull to pelvis - before breaking the connection between them.

 

The powerful jolt left Loki exhausted, achy, and extremely aroused. What an unfortunate side effect. He blamed fatigue and cursed it. Loki's head hit the pillow beside the Midgardian. He rolled onto his back and panted, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the smell of the charred shirt Stark was now sporting.

 

Tony wasn’t quite sure, but he might have passed out for a minute. He knew that he’d groaned when the power rushed through him. His whole body tingled, and Tony realized he’d come like a teenager in his boxers. But damn, at that moment, he could not bring himself to care.

 

He felt good, loose limbed and sated. Tony’s mind was thoroughly blown and blessedly quiet.

 

"That... wasn't quite what I intended," Loki finally confessed.

 

“Shh. Don’t ruin my afterglow. That was the best non-sex I’ve ever had,” Tony slurred on the verge of sleep. "God, I feel awesome."

 

Loki rolled over onto his side to look at the man. By the Nines, this felt like a first time sex experience, over far too fast, bungled, and completely embarrassing. But Odin help him, Loki actually felt good for accessing his magic so soon after leaving Asgard. He chuckled in spite of himself at Stark's comments.

 

And that's when Thor burst in.

 

"Loki! You are using magic. I can feel it in the air," Thor shouted. He made it to the bed in four strides and looked them over. The confusion was evident on his face, as they were both still fully clothed and nothing too out of place, save for the perfectly round circle burned in Tony's shirt where the arc reactor sat in his chest. Still, it had that air of intimacy. "Tony Stark, is your virtue still intact?"

 

Tony tried, he really did, because it would be so impolite to laugh in the presence of all that earnestness. Thor really did seem so concerned. But after feeling pretty much like shit since he’d freed Loki from his bonds, he could not deny the euphoria.

 

"My virtue? Pretty sure it's not intact. Nope, not sorry at all about it either.” The billionaire plucked at his burned t shirt and laughed. “Wow, that’s never happened before." 

 

Even though sex hadn't been involved, or maybe even intended, that didn’t keep the blissed out grin off Tony’s face. “Huh. Magic. Who would’ve thought?”

 

Loki wanted to laugh too. Maybe it was a release from all the stress and anxiety he'd faced down over the long year. Maybe it was just that the situation was completely amusing. Whatever it may be, Loki felt himself smile,  that was until Thor approached his side of the bed and lifted him off the mattress by fisting his shirt in meaty hands.

 

"I warned you, Loki. Do not try my patience. We are guests here and Tony Stark is to be respected."

 

"I did no harm, and he enjoyed it," Loki snickered. "Ask him."

 

"The evidence suggests otherwise. Look at his clothing," Thor shouted.

 

"Things got a little messy," Loki said, wrinkling his nose. "It happens."

 

"You used magic on him." Thor repeated, shaking his brother once for good measure. "He is not equipped to defend himself against you."

 

"Yes, I did use magic," Loki confessed, wishing he had the strength to claw at Thor's hands. "But the ability is gone for now, Thor. I am exhausted. I can't even gouge your eyes out with my fingers, which is what I really want to do right now. And, why aren't you ever concerned about my virtue, brother?"

 

Thor tossed his brother back down on the soft bed and literally growled at him.

 

Tony forced himself into some sort of coherence and watched the interaction between Thor and Loki with interest.

 

“You know, I have to say that this is the first time I can remember anyone ever defending my non-existent virtue. Thanks for that Thor, but really, I’m fine. Loki promised to help me out for giving him asylum. He made with the mojo and it kinda interacted with my arc reactor."

 

"Unexpectedly," Loki supplemented with an eager nod.

 

"Yes, and the side effects were quite... surprising. Let’s just say I hair triggered like a teenager. No harm, no foul. It was quite the pleasurable experience. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep," Tony said, fishing out some Kleenex from the nightstand to clean himself up the moment Thor left. "Loki can crash here too, considering he looks as wrecked as I do. Besides, after our little not-tryst, sharing a bed is the least I could do. And really, Thor you should be more worried about Loki’s virtue. Look who he’s in bed with.”

 

Tony smiled smugly, but it was false bravado. What he really wanted was a few hours of shut eye before the next crisis. If that could happen, Tony would count himself lucky.

 

"I do not think it wise," Thor said to both of them, "to have any sort of relations going on at a time like this." He pointed a finger at Loki who opened his mouth to protest. "You know what I say is wisdom. I will not stand for anything less. Do we have an understanding?"

 

"Go away, Thor." Loki rolled onto his side and pulled a pillow over his head.

 

The god of thunder stood there, looking quite immovable. He paused after turning away once and looked right at Stark. "Virtuous behavior." Then he left.

 

Loki chuckled.

 

Tony cleaned himself up and said, “I don’t think I can remember what wholesome is like."

 

"It was not designed for creatures such as ourselves."

 

Amen, Tony agreed. "Now about that nap. You can stay if you want, huge bed and all, but you heard your brother: Try to keep your hands to yourself.”

 

"Noted."

 

Tony really was tired, now that the rush was fading. He yawned hugely and mumbled, “Jarvis, wake me in two hours.”

 

"Yes, sir. Rest well."

 

~*~

 

So the question was, Bruce wondered, why was Stark so comfortable with Thor and Loki showing up, asking for help, and just giving it so freely? Then Bruce decided he may never understand what goes on in Tony’s head. The man was a mystery at best and had severe judgment issues at the very least. And Bruce knew only a fraction of Tony’s demons, most of those being published weekly in scandalous tabloids and Time magazine.

 

But what worried Bruce most was something so completely foreign to what one usually paired with Tony Stark: this seeming condition of naïveté.

 

Did Tony actually know what he was doing in allowing Thor to bring his severely psychologically damaged brother here? Did he have any idea the immediate danger he’d put himself in? The complete instability of Loki and the damage that could be done to everything and everyone in this Tower was immense. You'd have to be blind to all internal cautionary instincts to miss warning bells.

 

Then Bruce caught his reflection in the window. A dim glow of green in his eyes, a genetically-altered body the size of a small giant, a toothy grin that was not his own, a meaty fist with a middle finger stuck up in the air. Bruce closed his eyes and mumbled a harmless “fuck you” to the Other Guy.

 

My god, Bruce thought. The misfits of the universe gravitate to Tony Stark, and he welcomes them in with open arms, gives them a safe haven, infuses them with a feeling of belonging. Even if it is a lie. Tony makes them believe. He inspires the freaks and lone wolves of the universe to do better, make better choices, do something good with their lives. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don’t. And sometimes they try their hardest and fail.

 

But was that Loki? Did the Asgardian prince really think what he did was justified? That was the crux of the matter.

 

Every single one of them – Bruce, Tony, Natasha, and certainly, Clint - thought they were righteous in their own mind for carrying out their actions at one point or another - they thought their crusade was justified, their actions legitimate based on the circumstances.

 

Who was there to tell Tony that this time, time taking Loki in and helping him was not right. Where would it get Tony if Bruce even pressed the matter? The damage had already been done. Tony was already facing his own mortality for his most react decisions.

 

Much like Coulson.

 

Bruce checked the EKG once more, the oxygen saturation, nutrition line, catheters, pumps, and IV lines.

 

He didn't feel the loss of the SHIELD agent as acutely as Tony did, or even Rogers, if their reactions indicated their level of friendship formed with the man. Bruce felt it on a human level, of course, and as a doctor who saw any damage and/or loss of life a total waste of the miraculous creation that was the human body.

 

He wanted Coulson to pull out of this peculiar coma, not only for the sake of the man's life, but also for the morale of those who felt his loss most. Phil Coulson seemed to represent something good and brave and true for those who knew him.  And now more than ever, they all needed that in their lives.

 

He picked up the laptop on the table beside Coulson’s bed and checked the titration levels for the medication keeping Coulson’s body alive.

 

“Jarvis? I’d like to increase the pain medication to 40 mgs every four hours starting with his next dose.”

 

“Yes, doctor. I’ll note the change in the medication list and begin the new quantity in 23 minutes,” the AI answered.

 

“Thanks, I appreciate your help,” Bruce acknowledged. He gathered the papers and charts SHIELD brought with them when they delivered their patient to Stark Tower. It amazed the doctor that a government agency hadn’t gone paperless in this day and age.

 

There were reams of tests and lab results to pour over and Bruce wanted to examine each of them carefully, but he was itching to get his hands on some of Tony’s blood.

 

He’d experimented on the poisoned leather bindings that had arrived with Loki, and no antivenin, antidote, antibiotic, or even caustic substance Bruce had access to changed the tar-like substance in the slightest manner.

 

If that was now flowing freely through Tony’s systems, it was a wonder the genius wasn’t dead already. But obviously, it wasn't having the same reaction in Tony's bloodstream. He needed to analyze it, and soon, because the one thing it was doing was expanding in the petri dish.

 

"Jarvis, how's Tony doing?"

 

"He has been resting now for 3 hours and 16 minutes."

 

"Good, good." Bruce sat down at the large wooden desk in the room and sipped on his apple juice. "Where's Loki?"

 

"Next to him."

 

"Please tell me your protocols allow for jokes."

 

"They do. But unfortunately, this isn't one of those times."

 

Bruce stood and headed for the elevator to take him upstairs. "This has to stop."

 

"I've already interrupted their slumber because Director Fury is calling for sir."

 

"Oh this should be fun," Bruce said, punching the floor of the elevator car.

 

~*~

 

Tony struggled back to wakefulness and there seemed to be an incessant buzzing in his ears. He opened his eyes and sat up. He ran a hand through his already messy hair and yawned.

 

“Sir, I repeat Director Fury is on the line for you. He is getting most impatient.”

 

“Yeah alright. Just keep him on hold. I suggest some Justin Beiber to keep him entertained while he waits.”

 

Tony paused to look over at his bedmate. Loki looked dead to the world, sleeping heavily, and it was so unfair: he didn’t even appear to be drooling.

 

The billionaire climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Because ugh, as much fun as earlier had been, the aftermath was rather itchy.

 

Tony stripped and showered in record time. He still felt amazingly well considering the toxin running rampant through his system was far from cured. There was the constant feeling of being unwell but the dizziness and nausea were under control.

 

He wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the bathroom. Tony walked into his closet and grabbed his Starkphone off the dresser. No need to broadcast his conversation to Fury to the whole room.

 

“Okay, Jarvis. I’ll talk to Fury now. That is, if he’s still on the line.”

 

“Switching over, sir. Director Fury? Mr. Stark will take your call now.”

 

“Stark. If I order an agent to put Beiber in his crosshairs and pull the trigger, that death will be on your hands. I won’t hesitate to leak the story to the press. The last thing you see will be rabid tweens with tear-streaked faces rushing in to stab you to death with mechanical pencils and child-safe scissors.”

 

“Ah, but their parents will canonize me. At least I won’t have died in vain.  He had a slight niggling fear that Fury really wasn’t kidding. "Anyway, you bellowed?”

 

“I’m thinking someone must have dropped you on your head this morning.” Fury replied. “What the fuck makes you think you can walk into my medical facility, roll my guys in the dirt, and walk out with my prize agent?”

 

Fury’s voice continued to rise. “And before you unleash that cocky mouth of yours, we knew you were coming. The recruit from MIT specializing in cyber security can spot your ass in our system now. You only have Coulson because I’m allowing it. Got that? And I’ll come and get what’s mine when I damn well want to. Do you understand me?”

 

Tony grit his teeth and watched his good mood evaporate. Fury was the ultimate buzz kill.

 

“Understood, Director. Although lying about Agent Coulson’s death not a wise move. You’re pretty much on everyone’s shit list right now. Not that you care. Besides, it wasn’t as if you were actually helping Coulson all that much. I have resources you cannot even begin to match. Now it is my turn, and you know what? I bet we do a fat lot better than your SHIELD stooges.”

 

Tony checked the door to his dressing room, hearing movement in the suite, but Loki hadn't appeared yet.

 

“Oh and as for your precious MIT cyber security specialist? Next time I decide to ‘take a walk in your systems,’ you won’t even know I’ve been there.”

 

This was truly a case of Tony’s brain-to-mouth censor totally giving up, but that man pissed him off. Yeah, he’d been cocky and careless breaking into SHIELD this time, but it was not going to happen again. Even if he had to invent the tech to do it.

 

“I didn’t lie, Stark. Coulson was clinically dead. But it was those “stooges” that brought him back from death, and they’ve kept him alive all this time. You’re just pissed off because I played you,” Fury boasted. “But I want to hear you admit it. The team wouldn’t have gotten the job done if things hadn’t played out that way, and you know it. That crazy Loki fucker would’ve won, and now where would we be? I tell you where. We sure as hell wouldn’t be arguing about Coulson, SHIELD, or your arrogant ass and nosy technology.

 

Fury paused to talk to someone in his office before continuing.  “And one more thing about your AI, Stark. When you come knocking on our door, we might let you in on purpose. Your AI might be fucking with the wrong server and come out with a nasty cyber STD that’d make even your dick shrivel.”

 

Loki leaned against the door jamb, crossed his arms over his chest. He raised his chin in question at the phone conversation.

 

Tony held one finger to his lips indicating for Loki to be quiet for a moment.

 

“Infect Jarvis? Please. Like that would happen. I’d like to see your hacks try to share some lame computer virus. If that's the best you can come up with, I’ll just have to outfit Jarvis with the right condom.” Tony paused and tried not to laugh when he was sure he heard a computer generated indignant snort from Jarvis.

 

“As for the Avengers? Yeah, maybe we would’ve been harder to get together as a team. But maybe, just knowing a good man was injured trying to stand up for what he believed in would have been enough. In my case, good old fashioned revenge works too. So I think this conversation is over Director. Don’t call us we’ll call you.” Tony ended the call and slammed his phone down on the dresser.

 

Loki pursed his lips and watched Tony stew for a few seconds. "Should I expect the Director's arrival due to betrayal and tell Thor to ready our leave?"

 

“Wait, what? Betrayal? What the hell are you talking about?" Tony replied. "Fury called me, I didn't call him. And he was just being his usual dickish self, rubbing it in that he thought he got one over on me and expecting me to kiss his ass that he allowed us to transfer Coulson to the tower. That you would have ended the world as we know it if he hadn’t twisted the truth to assemble the Avengers. What an asshole!”

 

"I see," Loki said, vaguely, still standing his ground in the doorway.

 

Tony took a deep breath and tried to get his temper under control. Damn but Fury got on his last nerve. He smoothed back his hair with his hands and dug out a pair of boxer briefs. He’d slept long enough and wanted to see how the preparations for Coulson’s arrival was coming, so clothes were really required. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d walked around the tower naked but usually there was a lot of alcohol involved first. And Cap would probably have an aneurysm.

 

Loki thought about what Tony said. He remembered specifically dividing them up to weaken them. Who would've known a harmless anomaly such as Agent Coulson foiled his plan? Interesting.

 

"It seems Fury doesn't like you either," Loki commented, a smile touching his lips as he watched the man dress. "Anger suits you," he complimented, not shy at admiring Tony's body. "How are you feeling?"

 

Tony didn’t miss the admiring glance and preened a bit under the scrutiny.

 

“Whatever you did seems to have worked. I feel better than I have since I got poisoned. It’s still there, I can feel it, but its like the poison has been suppressed. Headache and nausea are mostly gone. I just hope it lasts. Welts are still there on my arm but they are not  bothering me right now.”

 

"Well, my prowess is renowned in the Nine Realms," Loki chuckled. "It's no wonder you feel well."

 

All joking aside, Loki knew it couldn't be that easy. Healing magicks were not Loki's strength. If this was to continue, he would need to do more research, and he'd need unusual items not found in this realm. Thor might have to go on some field trips that he might not be happy about.

 

Tony snorted. “Gee, and they call me vain. I guess if you got it, then flaunt it. Can’t say I’m unhappy with the experience. Understatement of the year actually.”

 

Loki felt the immediate kick that came with confirmation of mutual attraction. For a split second, his mind rationalized that he and Stark could use each other for their intimate needs too. It had been so long... Then, reality kicked in. So did Thor's voice: Virtuous behavior. Loki struggled not to roll his eyes at his inner dialogue.

 

Unconcerned with his modesty, Tony dropped his towel and pulled on the briefs. He grabbed a pair of faded jeans and a thermal tee and finished getting dressed. Barefoot, Tony walked up to Loki.

 

“So, I’m going to go see the setup for Coulson--”

 

“Sir," Jarvis interrupted. "Agent Coulson was transferred successfully to your newly outfitted medical bay on hour and 20 minutes  ago. Dr. Banner oversaw the procedure and Agent Coulson is currently stable.”

 

“Well, why the hell didn’t anyone wake me? I need to go and check on him. Also I believe Steve said something about food because I’m starving. You coming?”

 

Loki was not comfortable with how easy it was to watch this man dress - or undress - nor how easy it was to converse with him. Or how easy it was to flirt with him. Stark was the enemy. If not his enemy, then his adversary. And if not an adversary, then his jailer.  Jailer or savoir? No, not savoir. They were merely using each other for individual gain. That was all.

 

This was becoming hard to define rather quickly. Somehow, he just knew this was typical of Stark.

 

"I need to speak to Thor," Loki replied. "And I'd like to use your bath chamber again, if that's alright. Can you send my brother in if you see him? Please," Loki added, almost as an afterthought.

 

“Sure thing. I’ll see where Thor has gotten to and send him up with some food. As for the bathroom, knock yourself out. Anything in there you need. Jarvis can answer any questions.”

 

"Stark," Loki began, wondering why this fool of a man would be so accommodating, ready to admonish him for it. But hadn't Loki pointed this out earlier? Banner too. Loki had never seen someone expose himself so often. It was either honorable or foolish, or both. "Thank you for your hospitality."

 

~*~

 

Natasha tucked herself into a corner booth and watched the crowd ebb and flow around her. Despite the early hour, there was a respectable amount of patrons. She smiled as Clint effortlessly filled all the orders thrown at him from the two busy waitresses.

 

She’d just finished her own breakfast of sinfully light pancakes and the indulgence of real, thick-cut, maple-cured bacon, something Natasha would need to add a few more miles to her daily run for eating. The Shield spy lingered over her coffee and wondered how to help her partner. To the casual observer, Clint looked fine, happy even as he bantered with the customers. But to Natasha, whose job it was to see beneath the facade, she noticed the dark circles under Clint’s eyes and the shadows in his gaze.

 

Maybe the best thing would be to show Clint he was needed, that he wasn’t just an asset to be exploited. Clint might be surprised to find he had more friends than he thought.

 

As the day progressed, Natasha took the rare opportunity to see middle-class America through the doors of the diner. She left briefly for a run and showered in one of the upstairs apartments. Now dressed in worn denim jeans, a yellow knit top and some black calf length boots she sat back in her accustomed spot and picked at a bowl of beef stew. It wasn’t that the food didn’t appeal to her, Clint had made it that morning, but that there were three messages on her phone all from one Steve Rogers.

 

The first two she ignored, but by the time her phone rang for the third time, she had to wonder what kind of dire emergency was brewing that needed her input. Or basically, what had Stark done now? If it had been a mission type emergency, SHIELD would have made contact, so this must be about Stark and Rogers not knowing what to do about it.

 

With a heavy sigh, Natasha slid out of the booth and headed for the door. Clint caught her attention. She gave him an absent-minded wave and went outside. If Rogers and Stark had gotten into a pissing match, she really wished they’d leave her out of it. She had the feeling that whatever Rogers wanted was going to ruin her day.

 

Natasha dialed and then heard Steve answer, and without hesitating, she snapped out: “Romanoff. What has Stark done now?”

 

“Uh, Agent Romanoff, it’s not about Stark, I mean Tony. Well, not all of it anyway. I don’t know how to tell you this...”

 

Steve’s hesitations were starting to annoy the assassin. Her temper was short with the distinct lack of sleep she’d gotten over the last several nights. “Just spit it out, Rogers. What is going on that you felt the need to call me three times?” 

 

Not knowing how else to break it to her, Steve just came right out with the truth. “Coulson’s alive.”

 

“Rogers, I swear if you are fucking with me, I’ll gut you,” Natasha snarled. It was impossible. She’d seen the security footage, seen Coulson stabbed in the back. Then, after Loki left him there to die, she watched her handler struggle to breathe and finally bleed out.

 

“Fury lied to us, ma’am. Agent Coulson is alive but in a coma. Tony thought moving him to the Tower would be a better idea, and Sitwell agreed.” Steve hated to think what was going through her head. He hoped she wasn’t alone to deal with it all.

 

Natasha tried to get her emotions under control. Her first instinct was to find Fury and shoot him in the face. How could he have lied to them when he knew how much their handler meant to Clint and to her? Oh god, Clint.

 

“Agent Romanoff, are you alright?” Steve finally asked.

 

“I’m okay." Then Natasha uncharacteristically stammered. "I... I need to tell Clint,” 

“You know where Barton is? I think you should both be here," Steve said, trying to soothe the ache he could hear in her voice. "I know you were close to Coulson.” 

 

“Close to him? He saved both our lives more times than I can count," Natasha said harshly. She was not dealing well with her roiling emotions; equal measures of anger, betrayal, fear, and relief. "We’ll be there as soon as possible. I expect Stark will let us in this time.” 

 

“We’ll be waiting. We have a lot to discuss.” Rogers didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye before the Widow hung up the phone.

 

Dear god, Natasha thought as she sagged against the wall of the small diner. Her mind was a swirling mass of chaos. She didn’t even hear the door open.

 

“Nat, is something wrong?” Clint asked, closely observing the assassin. He knew her body language better than anyone. Something was clearly bothering her. “I saw you through the door.”

 

“Clint, I… oh damn. Just give me a minute.” Natasha’s arms wrapped around her waist while she tried to figure out the best way to tell her partner without him going off the deep end.

 

“Nat, come on. You’re starting to scare me here. Who died?” Clint joked, although he was not entirely sure if the jest was off color or not, given her paleness.

 

Natasha sighed and stepped closer to the archer. She reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Clint, it is not about who died, but about who lived.”

 

Barton frowned, body going rigid with anxiety when she brought her hand gently to his cheek.

 

“It’s Phil,” she whispered. “He’s alive.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

For Clint, everything stopped.

 

He heard a roaring in his ears and his chest ached. He couldn’t process what Natasha just said: Phil Coulson is alive.

 

Barton had seen the surveillance footage. He’d snuck into SHIELD'S database and tortured himself over and over by replaying the sequence leading up to Coulson’s death until they took him to medical. He done so as penance, knowing that reliving the agony of Phil’s death would be a constant reminder of the damage he’d wrought that day.

 

Black spots danced in front of Clint’s eyes, and he felt himself sway.

 

From very far away, he thought he heard someone ordering him to breathe. Then there was a sharp crack, a sudden fierce stinging pain across one cheek. Clint sucked in a deep breath and everything rushed back in.

 

Natasha was gripping his shoulders tightly after having slapped him try and ward off the massive panic attack that loomed on the edge of Clint’s vision.

 

He felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

 

“But, how?” he stuttered. “I don’t understand."

 

“Rogers just called me. I don’t know how he found out. Most likely, Stark went snooping.” Natasha held his gaze unwavering. The budding hope she saw there was almost too much to bear. “But Clint, he told me that Coulson is in a coma and is being moved from a SHIELD facility to the Tower. Stark thinks he can do something Fury can’t, and apparently, Sitwell agrees. Steve thinks we should be there.”

 

Clint still could not believe what Nat was telling him. If that was true, then Fury lied to them to manipulate them in the worst way. He’d suffered so much… and apparently, it wasn’t necessary.

 

Clint could feel his elation at this surprising news being contaminated by the rage he felt towards the Director. All this time, all his suffering. All those appointments with those head doctors trying to process a death that wasn’t real...

 

“Fury,” Clint stated, jaw clenching tight. “I’m going to kill him.”

 

Natasha knew when Clint sounded like that there were usually body bags involved. “I know, but you can’t touch him. We don’t know what happened that day. I’m pissed at the Director too, but we need to find out what’s going on first.”

 

Clint tore from her grasp and faced the wall of the diner.

 

“He lied to us, Natasha, for months, letting us believe Coulson was dead. God damn it! I didn’t deserve that, not after everything…” he said, voice trailing off at the memories of what he did to all those operatives. He turned and searched her eyes.  “Or did I, Nat? Did I deserve it?”

 

“Oh, Clint,” she softly said, shaking her head in sympathy.

 

Pity was not what he wanted to see. Feeling his rage at the lies build with no outlet, Clint clenched his fist and tried to drive it into the wall. He was stopped by an iron grip to his wrist.

 

“Don’t. Don’t jeopardize your hand,” Natasha said sternly. She forcibly turned Clint to face her. “I’m not going to let you hurt yourself.”

 

“What the fuck difference does it make anyway? SHIELD obviously doesn’t trust me with information, much less with a bow,” Clint stated, scowling at his partner.

 

She didn’t flinch, just returned his glare. “Listen to me. You are going to go back inside, make your excuses to Darlene, and we are going to go back to the city and find out what the hell is going on. Then, if we don’t like the answers, I swear I will hold Fury down for you while you kick his ass.”

 

Then Natasha hugged Clint fiercely before pushing him away.

 

“I’ll be waiting in the car,” she told him. “Lock your bike in the shed, then meet me back out here. We leave in ten.”

 

Exactly nine minutes and twenty three seconds later, they were on the road to the city.

 

~*~

 

Thor wandered into the kitchen barefoot. He sat down heavily on the bar stool, looking much like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. The smell of something on the stove led him there, but Thor's mind was still elsewhere.

 

He'd woken up from a very long nap in some over-sized comfy chair with a matching ottoman. That particular piece of furniture fit him almost like his furnishings back home. Although his body had been quite comfortable, unfortunately, he had nightmares of being hunted by Odin. They were followed by pleasant dreams of Frigga singing to him, calming his anxiety with her melodious voice.

 

And somewhere near the end of his slumber, he dreamt he attended Loki's wedding. This time, Loki wore the dress. That part was very amusing. But the nightmarish element was that Stark was standing at the altar, waiting for his brother to join him.

 

That had startled the Thunder God awake and found him a foul mood.

 

He yawned like a grizzly bear waking from hibernation, sound and all. Then he rested his elbow on the bar and propped his head up with his hand, blearily watching Rogers cook.

 

It’s not often that someone could sneak up on Captain America, especially someone Thor’s size who wasn’t trying to be particularly quiet. Steve actually jumped at the God of Thunder’s noisy yawn. He’d been so engrossed in his thoughts, while looking out the window, that he hadn’t heard Thor’s approach.

 

Steve had gone down and met the transfer team as they brought Coulson into the Tower. The man looked small and pale while hooked up to so many beeping machines. It was so unlike the frighteningly-capable Agent of SHIELD Steve knew him to be.

 

Even though Bruce assured him that Agent Coulson was stable, it was hard for Steve to stay in the room. Vigils were something he was not a stranger to. During the war, he’d sat at many a bedside to comfort maimed and dying soldiers. Each death hurt Steve and made him vow to be stronger and fight harder.

 

So he’d retreated back to the comfort of the kitchen. Despite its gleaming chrome and ultra modern appliances, it felt like home.

 

Right before Thor’s entrance to the kitchen, Steve finally managed to get a hold of Agent Romanoff. Telling her that Coulson was alive was the good part of the conversion, but it meant that he had to divulge that Fury lied. That part was painful. It was something he didn’t want to have to do again. The confusion and hurt in her voice was almost palpable. So was the hope that Coulson truly was alive.

 

Steve just wondered if that hope was a false one. Bruce had said it would be a waiting game to see if the SHIELD agent would ever wake and make a full recovery.

 

"Smells good," Thor mumbled to Rogers. "You made that yourself?"

 

“Ah yeah,” Steve said, turning to face Thor. “It’s just some chicken soup, something my mom would make me when I wasn’t feeling well. It’s her recipe. We didn’t have much when I was a kid, and she could always manage to get the ingredients together. I should take some up to Tony. He ought to be hungry. Maybe Loki would eat some too,” Steve mentioned, as he got out a tray and some bowls.

 

"I'd imagine Loki to be ravenously hungry by now, but one never knows with him." 

 

The elevator doors opened and Bruce nearly sprung out, fists balled up at his sides.

 

"Thor. You are just who I wanted to see. I have a problem with your brother that I need to discuss with you," he began. Then he stopped in his tracks and looked at the pot on the stove. The tension in his body literally dissipated and he was back to the facade of harmless Dr. Banner. "Wow. That smells really good."

 

He wandered into the kitchen and stared at the soup. With eyebrows raised, he asked, "Where'd this come from?"

 

 “I made it. I thought maybe Tony would like something homemade. It’s chicken soup, my mom’s recipe.”

 

“You made chicken soup?”

 

Steve rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Yeah, I needed to do something.”

 

Who knew Steve Rogers was so sentimental, Bruce thought to himself. He knew the "super serum" greatly enhanced one's emotions and character traits. So, Steve must have been quite a nurturing person before this to be so thoughtful now, especially in the face of disaster again.

 

His parents obviously did right by their kid.

 

It wasn’t that way with Bruce. He constantly fought with his abandonment issues, insecurities about his appearance and self-worth, and always, always the anger behind it all for such a shitty childhood.

 

And it was a good thing Tony didn't get a hold of the serum because they'd have another Hulk on their hands, only with genius technological tendencies and an ego the size of Texas. He knew the term to be super-villain. Kind of Loki…

 

“So, you cook.” Bruce tried for casual but this was quickly becoming awkward. “Please don’t tell me you make apple pie too? Those human interest stories the magazines are doing on the Avengers would eat this up.”

 

Steve’s lopsided smile was forced. “Truthfully, other than working out in the gym or going for a run, there was little else I could think to do to burn off my nervous energy. Besides, if there was ever a time for some comfort food, it’s now.”

 

Bruce nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Steve he could always spend some time throwing Loki out the window, but Thor was in earshot. So giving voice to that notion would only cause more destruction to Tony's suites when they began to physically fight about Loki. Then the Other Guy would be blamed for killing both Asgardian princes. Their war-mongering father might not like that, and then there would probably be a war between realms, and the Hulk most likely couldn't take on a legion of Asgardians...

 

Rogers cleared his throat again. “Dr. Banner? Is Tony awake yet?"

 

Steve's question snapped him out of his imagination.

 

"Uh, yes. Yes, he is. I was asking Jarvis for a status update when he told me Loki was sleeping in the same bed with him. Again," he said, poignantly looking at Thor. "I just spent the last hour and a half stabilizing Agent Coulson in the medical lab, and let me tell you, I have a lot of issues with Loki even being in the same zip code as the rest of us."

 

"We left them alone only at Stark's request," Thor accounted. "My brother assured me there'd be no foul play. If you do not trust my judgment, then assure me that you trust your Captain's," Thor said, cocking his head at Rogers. "I am also very fond of the voice in the ceiling. Jarvis appears to have Stark's best interests at heart. He assured us he would alert us to any matters which needed our attention, and there have been none."

 

“Yet.” The doctor rubbed his face with his hands, turning away from Thor to walk to the windows. He just couldn't let it go. It didn't help the Other Guy was constantly egging him on, dying to get out and have another go at Loki.

 

As he passed by Steve, the Captain's dauntless face and posture conveyed everything Banner needed to hear: The situation truly was under control, that they hadn't lost their minds and left Tony in danger, and that Bruce needed to trust their judgment more often.

 

Bruce had no doubts that exact face of calm confidence won World War II. So he nodded once, a mere dip of his chin. "Alright, I concede, this time."

 

Steve’s body relaxed again. He tried to quickly change the subject. "Agent Romanoff finally answered her phone. She’s on her way back here with agent Barton."

 

Bruce turned on his heel, hope rekindled instantly that Loki's demise was imminent, or at least his exodus from Tony's Tower. If Romanoff and Barton were coming, Loki was toast.

 

Thor must have thought so too, since he got to his feet, chin dropping, turning cold eyes on Steve. “This is troublesome news.”

 

"Look, I know we can’t have them finding out Loki is here, but they deserved to know Agent Coulson is alive. He meant a lot to them.” Steve couldn’t help his defensive tone. He would have given anything for someone to tell him Bucky was still alive. Keeping Phil’s status from them was just cruel.

 

"I understand your need to share the news of Coulson's resurrection with them, but I must ask, do you intend to keep our presence here a secret from them?" Thor looked from Rogers to Banner. "I must know now. My brother cannot defend himself as he is. I wish not to raise arms against my fellow Midgardian warriors, and Loki has gravely wronged them both, Barton particularly, so we will take our leave now, if your answer is not in our favor."

 

“I agree that telling them your brother is here would be disastrous, but the Tower is huge, right? We can keep Loki contained.”

 

Bruce rolled his eyes. “You can try.”

 

“And we will because Barton and Romanoff needed to know about Coulson. I saw it. I know how much his apparent death affected Agent Barton. He really cared about his handler, more than just a fellow agent. If there had been any hope that Bucky, I mean, someone I cared for had lived, I would have wanted to know to. Clint, he was so broken up about what happened, so I had to tell him,” Steve defended. “I wouldn’t be able to keep it from him.”

 

His feelings were too close to the surface, things he hadn’t really dealt properly with, and those emotions were transferring to Clint and this current situation.

 

"There was a time when I thought my brother was lost,” Thor conceded. “So I understand the reason behind your revelation of Coulson. I will help keep my brother's presence here hidden. There shan't be need for more fighting among us."

 

Bruce had that look that said he wasn't completely "in" with the secret keeping business, but he’d do it for now. If it backfired in anyway, he’d have leverage to use and two assassins on his side.  He also wanted to ask Steve about Bucky. Thor stepped up and did it for him.

 

"Was Bucky a brother to you?"

 

Steve briefly closed his eyes as his last memory of his best friend flashed through his mind. He damned himself for bringing it up in the first place.

 

“He… was like a brother to me. We grew up in the same orphanage after my mom died.  Bucky got into the military before I did. You see, they would not accept me at first. I was too sickly and scrawny. I wanted to be there and fight by his side, to protect Bucky and serve my country. I got in, of course, but they had a different agenda for me for a while. By the time I got sent overseas, he’d already been captured by the enemy. One of my first real missions as Captain America was rescuing him and his platoon.”

 

Steve paused and took a deep breath. Maybe if he got it out quickly it wouldn’t hurt so much.

 

“Later, when I had my own unit, the Howling Commandos, Bucky was my sniper. During a mission, we were on a train and... and there was an explosion. Bucky was thrown out. I tried to reach him in time, but I wasn’t fast enough. He fell, and it was my fault. Despite being ‘Captain America’, I couldn’t save him. What good did the serum do then?”

 

Steve laughed. It was totally devoid of any humor. Needing to compose himself, he turned to the stove and stirred the soup.

 

Tony paused in the doorway. He’d been about to make a grand entrance when he heard Steve’s story. It kind of shook his world view of the “I’m Captain America and nothing can hurt me” persona he had built up in his mind.

 

Steve could be and did hurt. To see the expression on Steve’s face when relating the death of his best friend had been heartbreaking. Yes, Tony Stark did have a heart, thank you very much, despite what the tabloids said.

 

It made him want to pay a little more attention to the man behind the red, white, and blue shield.

 

But for now, that was not why Tony was here. He had stopped by the med bay first but not finding anyone he knew at the nurse’s station, the billionaire went looking for someone familiar. He didn’t want to face Coulson’s mortality on his own. It brought back to many memories of his own fragile humanity.

 

“Ah, so this is where the party moved to,” he said, trying to diffuse the tension in the room. “Hey Thor, your brother was asking for some food. Might be better to take it to him,” he suggested quietly. “Bruce, I thought we could see Coulson together. You can explain all the medical mumbo jumbo to us."

 

"Uh, yeah," Bruce agreed, seeing the distraction for what it was. "Everyone can come on down when you’d like and say hello to our new resident."

 

“Good. How about an appetizer before we check on Agent? Then dinner after,” he said, taking a seat at the bar next to Thor. “Smells good, Cap. I’m actually pretty hungry for once.”

 

“I made enough for everyone,” Steve said, suddenly withholding the spoon when Tony reached for it.  With a resigned smile, he added. “Even for Loki.”

 

~*~

 

“Well, I’m pleased to tell you that Agent Coulson is, physically, as you’ve always known him to be,” Bruce said, leading Tony, Steve, and Thor into the elevator.  “There’s been little to no deterioration in his muscle mass and appearance. So you’re spared the usual picture of a, well, a loved one wasting away in a comatose state.”

 

They stepped into the car and traveled down towards the medical ward in contemplative silence. He tried to comfort his team mates, friends, whatever they were, and tried not to slip into “doctor” mode but to stay relatable as a comfort to them. But it wouldn’t be easy for them to hear what Bruce had to say. He knew they wanted a miracle, but Bruce hadn’t found one yet. And he wasn’t confident there’d be one. He’d keep trying, of course. Medical science could be exhausted, but not hope.

 

The Stark medical wing was currently minimally staffed by four high-ranking military medical personnel. It was an understatement to say Dr. Bruce Banner didn’t have the best relationship with the military at large. But it didn’t take the doctor long to see through their affiliation and realize the compassion, intelligence, and discretion Tony would both demand and employ in his facility.

 

Sometimes Bruce forgot that the majority of Tony’s upbringing and professional efforts were entirely military-related.

 

Stark gave new meaning to “military brat.”

 

“First, the good news: I’ve been pouring over the records and findings that SHIELD sent over and I agree with their assessment: There is no physical evidence to determine the site or source of Coulson’s brain that is causing his coma. He had a ruinous amount blood loss from the stab wound Loki gave him - which should have caused a massive stroke. End of story,” he explained, reining in his anger that bubbled up at the mention of what Loki did to Coulson's body.  “But there is no evidence of that. In his case, a portion of the brain would normally light up on scans, showing us the cause, location, severity and extent of his neurological damage due to his stroke, but it’s just simply not there.”

 

He led them to a luxurious room with state of the art medical equipment that was in the middle of the wing that faced the financial district of Manhattan. Bruce picked that room on purpose. In the distance, Tower 4 of the new World Trade Center rose into the sky in defiance of 9/11. The site was the birthplace of the modern day phoenix, and Coulson was scheduled for his rebirth very soon, if Bruce had anything to say about it.

 

Dr. Banner entered the room first, knowing that most family members appreciated the leadership and guidance when facing their loved one’s mortality. Hospital rooms could be paralyzing to some, particularly those who stared down the barrel of their own mortality's gun so recently.  He spared a moment to think of Tony’s psyche, but Stark specifically asked to do this, so Bruce told himself was worrying over nothing.

 

He walked directly over to Coulson’s bed with no fear or trepidation, leading by example. He put his hand gently on Coulson’s forearm to show them not only was it okay to approach the man laying motionless on the bed, it was okay touch him too.

 

“You can see, his physical state is being maintained adequately. He is breathing on his own, so we only have to maintain his nutrition, circulation, et cetera. The staff will change his position every two hours to prevent bedsores, although that's not been an issue, oddly enough. At SHIELD, they had him on a physical therapy regimen to prevent contractures of the muscles and limbs and to keep him, well, basically physically active through simulated mechanical movement. We’ll continue that here too.

 

“Now, the other issue,” Bruce said tentatively. “What worries me most is his neurologic state. Normally, when a person is awake, their brain waves are in an alpha state. It is an alert, high functioning capacity. The flip side is deep sleep – delta waves. Coulson’s long-term comatose state should yield such a result."

 

He pointed to a monitor beside the bed with a long read out that was relatively the same hyperactive reading across the display.

 

Tony joined Bruce at Coulson’s bedside and took a look at the indicated monitor. The readout was as worrying as Bruce made it out to be, although Tony had every confidence that they would be able to figure it out.

 

The billionaire paused to take a good look around at what the mind boggling amount of his money had purchased. The room, on a whole, fascinated him as much as it creeped him out. He hated hospitals no matter how expensively disguised. This suite appeared to be among the ranks of a five star hotel with the addition of all the medical equipment, but there was no doubt in Tony’s mind that someday soon he’d be joining Agent Coulson in a room such as this.

 

Still it was impressive. Damn, I’m good, Tony thought. He’d also have to thank Bruce profusely for taking the chore of setting it all up out of his hands.

 

"There are also normally moments of extreme activity called burst waves,” Bruce continued. “The brain has a short series of high-functioning firings followed by a dramatic drop. Sort of like a roller coaster going from the peak of height and then to dipping into a valley rapidly but then bottoming out there for quite some time.

 

“The problem,” the doctor tried to explain, “is that’s Agent Coulson has been experiencing periods of alpha waves between long stretches of burst waves. It would be like leaving the faucet wide open on your adrenaline - experiencing a fight or flight response 90% of a 24-hour period. He should be showing signs of utter physical breakdown from the stress caused by this state of mind, but, well, you can see, he's in excellent condition for someone who has been in a coma for weeks on end.

 

“So basically,” he concluded, rubbing his hands together in the awkwardness of an unexplained scientific phenomenon, “Agent Coulson is defying every scientific principle and theory known to modern medicine.”

 

He shifted awkwardly and raised his brow. “I can see why Fury and his medical team were at a loss.”

 

Steve looked on in awe at the complex set up. The room was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Not to say that SHIELD’S med bay was any less impressive, but it was built for function not aesthetics.

 

The view was spectacular and faced away from most of the damage to the city. Now, Steve wished Phil would just wake up so he could appreciate it. The captain also listened carefully to Dr. Banner’s explanation, glad that the geneticist took the time to lay it all out in a way he could understand.

 

“Having your brain that active should be causing damage, but you’re saying there is none and no one can account for that? How long can Agent Coulson survive like that and will he be the same when he wakes up?” Steve had seen his share of soldiers with head trauma. They rarely came out of it intact mentally. It scared him to think one of their own would be affected like that.

 

Bruce chose his words carefully, but there was no easy way to put it. "Most victims of extreme blood loss trauma experience some type of cognitive difficulties following a stroke-induced coma. Some can be rehabilitated." Bruce put his hands in his pockets, chewed on his lip for a heartbeat or two. They really didn't need to know more. The possibilities went from miraculous to grim. "There are numerous issues he could face - both physically and emotionally - but we won't know until he wakes up. And in his case, well, nothing is certain. Not even his diagnosis."

 

“We need Loki down here,” Tony blurted out. “But right now, his aid impossible for one reason. Loki used up the last of his magical energy to try and do something about the poison in me.”

 

Tony hastily raised his hands at Bruce’s and Steve’s combined frowns.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Dangerous enemy. Blah, blah, blah. I gave him permission. And for your information, whatever he did worked, at least for now. For a few minutes, I felt like a teenager again. Trouble is, the exertion totally exhausted our hopefully-formerly-evil-magic-user resident. So he’s pretty much toast right now.”

 

“Tony! What if he’d hurt you?” Steve sounded somewhat incredulous. He really wondered if the man had a death wish after all.

 

“Nah, nothing in it for him if he kills me now,” Tony reminded, leaning against Coulson’s bedrail. “Besides, nothing else was helping. The supernatural part of it was damned good too. Appears I have a magic kink... who knew?”

 

One moment, Bruce was staring slack-jawed at Tony’s “kink” statement, and the next moment, pieces of his clothing were falling to the floor.

 

The Hulk barely fit inside the hospital room, with his head brushing the ceiling. He clenched both of his green meaty fists, took one giant step forward, and leaned down to roar in Tony’s face in the most benign form of protest the beast could possibly manage.

 

The windows rattled as if they’d shatter and a vase with a purple orchid fell off the bedside table.

 

Thor sprung to action to hinder the Hulk’s advance but didn’t make it. He was thrown through the far wall by a lightning-fast sucker punch and into the next room before Tony could blink.

 

Steve knew this was coming. Tony finally pushed Dr. Banner too far. He was also aware that the doctor cared about Tony and the billionaire being so reckless with his own safety infuriated them both. Only with Bruce, it had more disastrous results. Before Steve could even move, Thor was smacked through a wall. He was glad it wasn’t him. Super soldier or not, that had to have hurt.

 

The Hulk grunted with each movement, panting with restraint. He snapped his head around to look at Coulson laying the bed, then he scowled at Steve in warning, followed by a casual glance at where Thor would’ve landed. The Asgardian shaped hole was obscured by the plaster dust that still hadn’t settled.

 

Steve hastily raised his hands in a ‘peace, I’m not going to interfere’ gesture. Because he didn’t even want to contemplate the collateral damage if this escalated.

 

Attention back on Tony, the Big Guy huffed like an angry dragon. His face full of fury, teeth gritted tight, jaw flexing. The Hulk held up a fat green finger in Tony’s face. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

 

Tony froze. Deer in the headlights would be an apt description. The line running through his head on a constant loop was, oh shit. On the surface, he knew Bruce would not hurt him. He was mostly sure the Hulk wouldn't either. That still didn’t stop the unmanly squeak that passed his lips.

 

“NO,” the Hulk finally said, leaning into Tony’s face. “NO PUNY GOD. AND NO NOOKIE.”

 

Tony could not help it. Fear maybe or the absurdity of the situation, who could tell? But he let out a startled laugh. It was either laugh or whimper.

 

Really, the Hulk giving him relationship advice. How much weirder could his life get?

 

Then the beast roared again, this time at the ceiling, because his fury still wasn’t quelled. So he beat himself in the head a few times with both fists. It looked painful.

 

Then the military nurses and the doctor were there, firearms drawn.

 

The Hulk twisted his upper body around and smirked at them, finally finding an outlet for his anger.

 

But instead of advancing, Dr. Banner was back, pants dangerously low on his hips, shirtless and barefoot. He turned back around to face Tony before staggering forward. He muttered something about idiot genius playboys then dropped his hands to his knees, doubled over.

 

“You,” he said aloud, “are not my favorite person right now.”

 

It was quite obvious to all in the room he meant Tony, unless of course he was talking to the Other Guy, but no one was going to ask Dr. Banner for clarification. Certainly not the pale-faced medical personnel, and particularly not the one who’d peed his pants, though he still held his gun at ready.

 

Bless him.

 

“Ah, sorry, big guy? But hey, no one else was making any headway on this poison thing. What Loki said made a lot of sense. I had to do something.” Tony knelt down next to Bruce. “He didn’t hurt me.  I swear. Loki knows he has no other options but to accept asylum from me. And so yeah, it had some side effects even Loki was not expecting, but I can’t complain. What a fucking rush, seriously.”

 

Bruce looked him in the eyes. "You don't get it do you?" He stood up, testing his body for damage, but finding none save for the hint of a fading headache. "You just don't understand."

 

He turned away from Tony, looked around at his clothes scattered over the floor. He bent to pick up a shoe and pointed at the nurses still training their weapons on him. "Will you please put those down? There are civilians in the room. Well, one civilian,” he said with a thumb in Tony’s direction. “There rest of us are just freaks."

 

Thor walked through the hole in the wall, blinked at everyone, and then shook plaster from his hair. There was a small cut on his cheek already wiped once with the back of his hand. "Who are you speaking about when you say freak?"

 

“Stand down,” Cap said to the armed nurses, ignoring the verbal jabs between the Avengers. “Put your weapons away. In fact, can you clear the room? Everyone just take a little break. Good job soldiers.” Steve was still somewhat stunned himself from Dr. Banner’s transformation. He walked over to the one nurse who obviously soiled himself and still held the gun in a shaking hand. Steve placed his hand over the distraught man’s.

 

“Stand down,” Cap repeated. “It’s okay. You should be commended for your actions, soldier. Nothing happened here you need to be ashamed of. Now why don’t you get cleaned up and go have dinner somewhere nice? Tony’s treat,” Steve explained.  He carefully removed the gun and stowed it in his belt, then nodded towards the door with a small smile.

 

“Right! Great idea,” Tony said. “Dinner’s on me. Sky’s the limit. In fact, take the limo.” Tony pulled out his phone and made a quick call to his chauffeur, instructing him to put their meal on a tab at whatever restaurant they chose.

 

After the room was settled again, Tony paused a moment to look at Bruce, really look at him. He felt a quick flash of guilt. His lackadaisical attitude had forced the man, who he was rapidly considering to be a friend, to change into the Hulk.

 

Bruce still looked shaky, angry, and a little bit sick.

 

“Hey. I’m sorry. I just, the poison, it scares me, okay? I was sick like this once before. I was dying from the reactor in my chest. It too was poisoning me. So when Loki said he could possibly help, I jumped at the chance. I can’t,” Tony started then paused to take a deep breath. “I can’t go through that again.”

 

His voice came out in a strangled whisper. He hated admitting to any weakness, but he realized this was something Bruce needed to hear.

 

And Bruce heard every word, at least ones that got past the sound of the blood still pumping through his veins like a raging river. He was still so incredibly angry. Surprisingly, even more so now than before the words “Loki” and “kink” fell out of Tony’s mouth.

 

Bruce knew this was an important crossroads in their fledgling friendship. Tony was finally talking from somewhere other than his ass, so wasn’t Bruce supposed to be nice in return? He didn’t feel like being nice.

 

Maybe Bruce had foolishly misunderstood Tony’s kindness from before and it wasn’t friendship at all. Maybe he wanted this too much, and now that it was crashing down around him. He knew it was all some big mistake.

 

This was something Bruce thought he prepared for, this feeling of being let down. This was an experiment after all. That’s what he said when he walked into the lobby at Stark Tower and Darcy Lewis was sucking on that damn lollipop.

 

But then there was Loki and the poison and Tony being so generous to everyone with a pulse, regardless of their intentions.

 

But as Bruce looked at Tony now, he realized he shouldn’t be here.  He just didn’t fit. He never could find a place to fit in where things went smoothly around them.

 

And it hurt that he wanted it to be here, in Stark Tower, in Tony’s life. He wanted this to the proverbial Camelot, but this was no fairytale and neither of them could hold together this kingdom for long. It was constantly crumbling down around them.

 

Half the problem was Stark. And if Bruce was going to lose something he never had, why not go down in flames? He felt like someone needed to say it:

 

“I don’t think you’re the Merchant of Death, Tony. I think you’re death’s favorite. How many times have you put yourself in harm’s way? Just now, in this room, being the most recent. And you laugh,” he stated poignantly, before repeating it louder. “You laugh! You lay with your enemy. You give him access to your body,” he said, making everyone in the room as uncomfortable as he was. “Loki does God knows what, and you laugh and say you liked it.

 

“I think you thrive on near death experiences, Tony. They scare you, yes. But need I remind you: You’re human. You’re mortal. You will die, Tony. But somewhere inside, you like that feeling of living on the edge, and Loki can certainly provide that for you now.

 

“But aside from your own issues and kinks, as you’d call them, you don’t seem to understand how that affects the people around you,” he admitted, getting angrier with every word. “People care about what happens to you, Tony. I care about what happens to you. And I’m sorry I couldn’t work fast enough, even with your remarkable tech available to me. I’m sorry I didn’t get the job done before some alien antichrist tempted you with an apple from his garden of Eden.

 

“But Loki doesn’t care about you, Tony,” Bruce said, never once breaking eye contact. “He will reduce you to ash with a flick of his hand the moment you have nothing more to offer him. And he won’t even remember your name.

 

“But you’re going to do whatever the fuck you want,” he finished, turning around to walk towards Coulson’s bed, one hand holding up his torn trousers. “Because you’re goddamn Tony Stark. And why not? Death obviously loves you. So you two have a good time.”

 

He fiddled with the monitors and paper readouts, not seeing a single thing in front of him, before finishing by saying, “I’ll check on Coulson, leave some orders for the doctor, then I’ll go.”

 

Tony recoiled as if slapped. He’d screwed up everything again. Pepper always said he had zero people skills. The call to just disappear into his workshop was like a siren song. He didn’t know if he could bear everyone leaving again, but Tony had to make an effort, he had to try and fix this.

 

It was true though what Bruce said, all of it, first with his acting out and doing outrageous things, all to get his father to notice him. Then, that kind of behavior was expected. Tony had become what the press branded him: a reckless, self-centered, arrogant playboy. It was just easier to live up to the hype, to slip into this persona like a well worn pair of shoes, regardless of who it hurt or the fall out.

 

But did he have a death wish? Maybe... possibly. It was what made him feel truly alive, as ironic as that seemed, to court death and come out the other side.

 

Did he ever think at all about those he was hurting by his actions?

 

Well they say hindsight is 20/20.

 

Tony stood up and looked around the room. “You know what? You’re right. As fucked up as this is, I didn’t think. And I’ll probably do it again. I’m sorry. Lame, I know, but I’ve got nothing else but I’m sorry.”

 

Tony absently rubbed at the arc reactor shining through his shirt. It was an involuntary gesture and oddly reassuring. Still, nothing quelled the sickening feeling in his stomach. “Bruce, just don’t leave, okay? I mean, no pressure to stay if you don’t want to be here. People leave all the time, right? Shit. I’m messing this up again...”

 

Jarvis interrupted Tony’s stumbling attempt at an apology. “Sir perhaps you should try something more to eat. It’s been eighteen hours since you’ve had any substantial food aside from the seven spoonfuls of chicken soup earlier.”

 

“Right, right. I’ll go get some more food. That sounds like a plan.” Feeling like an utter coward and grateful for the out his AI so graciously provided, Tony fled.

 

Whether or not he could stomach more food was another matter. The euphoria from Loki’s magical healing was fading fast and he felt distinctly queasy. It might have been from the skipped meals, the poison, or his guilty conscience for causing the scene just now.

 

Once in the elevator Tony rested his aching head against the cool wall.

 

“Jarvis?” Tony plaintively asked the ceiling. “Next time I’m being an ass, please stop me?”

 

“I’ll do my very best, sir,” Jarvis replied in a dry tone, “but wouldn’t that preclude you from ever speaking again?”

 

Tony wilted even more.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wild magic is so very unpredictable

 

 

Natasha Romanoff spared a glance at her passenger as she drove towards Manhattan.

 

Clint Barton stared silently out the window of the brown sedan. He’d not said a word since she all but ordered the archer into the car. Now more than halfway into their trip, the silence was starting to get uncomfortable. Shrugging, she turned her attention back to the road. Clouds were gathering in the distance and she could hear the rumble of thunder. Soon raindrops splattered the windshield.

 

Clint’s quiet voice almost startled the unflappable assassin. “Stop the car.”

 

“What? Why?” Natasha wanted to know. Clint’s nearly expressionless face was no clue as to why he’d made the request.

 

“Stop the fucking car!” Clint asked a little louder, a little more desperately.

 

“Clint I really don’t think...” Natasha started to say.

 

She had to slam on the brakes when Clint started to open his door. The car skidded on the wet pavement and slid sideways. The archer was out before she even came to a complete halt.

 

Cursing in her native tongue, Natasha put the car in park mostly on the side of the road and flung open her own door. She hurried to catch up with Clint who was walking away. Natasha got close enough and grabbed his arm but Clint angrily pulled out of her grasp.

 

She grabbed him again, this time not letting go. Natasha spun him around to face her.

 

“What is wrong with you?” Natasha shouted. The rain already soaking them both. His thin t-shirt and jeans were no protection at all against the driving rain. Not happy to be wet either, Natasha scowled at her partner.

 

“I… I can’t. I just can’t,” was all Clint managed to get out before he was once more trying to pull out of her grasp.

 

“You can’t what, go back? Face the man you care about? Don’t you think he deserves to know you’re there?” Natasha grabbed him by his shoulders and hung on. She was not about to chase him.

 

“It’s me. I don’t deserve to see him. Not after… he’s better off." Clint would not look her in the eyes. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to see the pity there. "Just let me go.”

 

“Let you go back to the diner or somewhere else? You know I’ll just drag your ass back again because you are going to see Coulson. You owe him that. We owe him that. You know what Barton? I never took you for a coward… until now,” Natasha sneered.

 

“You don’t understand!” Clint yelled.

 

“I understand better than you think! I’ve lost people I care about too. I’d have given everything for a second chance,” Natasha hissed out, ignoring the car that passed by with gawking onlookers.

 

“Let go. Please,” Clint whispered.

 

“Make me,” she challenged.

 

Clint struggled and broke her grip. He took a desperate swing with his clenched fist.

 

Expecting the move, Natasha blocked it and swept the archer’s legs out from under him. Following him down, Natasha pinned Clint to the road. He ended up on his back with her body perched on his chest.

 

“Get off!” Clint tried to buck her off but Natasha wasn’t budging.

 

Holding the archer’s arms immobile was taking a real effort and the rain wasn’t helping. Still Natasha would not give up.

 

“What are you afraid of Clint? That he’s in a coma and won’t wake up?” Natasha too, knew how hard keeping a vigil was. She’d done it often enough at Clint’s bedside.

 

“No. I’m afraid that he will.” Clint sagged in her grip, defeated and tired of fighting.

 

Natasha released Clint’s wrists and relaxed. She pulled him into a sitting position by his shirt and then hugged the archer to her tightly. She didn't care that they now had an audience and that it was raining down hard on them both.

 

“Clint he’ll forgive you," she said, beginning to shiver in the wind. "But you’ve done nothing wrong. What happened with Loki was not your fault.”

 

“How many times are you going to say that?” Clint sighed, his arms tight around her waist.

 

“Until you believe it.” Natasha replied. Then she hesitated. “You know… Phil’s last thoughts were of you. Fury told me so. He said the camera feed cut out when the power grid went down. But Phil said to tell you that it was not your fault. Did you know that?”

 

Clint pulled back to look at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Because you weren’t ready to hear it until now.” Natasha looked into Clint’s tortured hazel eyes. She briefly rested her forehead against his. Then she lightly kissed him on the lips.

 

“Okay,” he simply replied. That one word telling Natasha all she needed to know.

 

“Better now?” Natasha asked as she rested her hand on Clint’s cheek.

 

“I...I think so.” Clint took a deep breath. It felt like first time he'd been able to breathe calmly since he’d gotten in the car.

 

“Good because the ground is hard, my ass is frozen, and we’re both soaking wet.” Natasha smiled as she gracefully rose to her feet and held out her hand.

 

Clint grasped at that lifeline and pulled himself up. They both got back into the car after fishing out some dry clothes from the trunk. They changed unabashedly in the silence. It no longer awkward but comfortable. Natasha grabbed a travel blanket out of the back seat and scrubbed at her soaked hair and then handed it to her partner. She cranked the heater up and started back down the deserted road.

 

Clint wasn’t sure at all that he was ready to face Coulson, but with Natasha at his side, at least he would not be going into that room alone.

 

~*~

 

Loki was enjoying his solitude in the upper levels of Stark's Tower. For the moment, he had an ample amount of privacy to do whatever he wanted. So he'd made himself at home, sitting cross-legged atop the bar in the kitchen, eating as much of anything he desired.

 

He knew this small dose of peace wouldn't last long. Jarvis advised him that the so called 'Avengers' had ventured down to the healing halls, united as one in their effort to greet their fallen soldier with dignity. Not in those words exactly, but that's the image Loki concocted in his mind.

 

Without the need to put on appearances, he found himself craving food. He'd already soaked in the warm water of Stark's bath again, easing his muscles and further drawing out the toxin in his body. It would still take too long for his liking, in his assessment, to regain his full strength, but Loki could feel the upswing in his health, and that excitement prompted the return of his appetite.

 

So he ventured into the kitchen. He was polite enough to ask permission from Jarvis, being that it was the closest thing to being a servant of Stark. Then he emptied the cooler and larder shelves, as he and Thor would in the palace in Asgard, and set out all the items for his pleasure - grapes being his favorite. Those were consumed in their entirety during initial course of the plunder.

 

When all was on display for his pleasure, he sat down in the middle to consume, quite literally, the fruits of his efforts. At least Thor wasn't here to gnaw at the meat like a cannibal while talking with a mouthful.

 

When Stark entered the foyer of the suite, Loki sighed heavily and popped the last of the cherries in his mouth. He grabbed a head of broccoli in one hand and some blackberries in the other.

 

“You are not funny.” Tony growled at Jarvis' comment and he stepped out on the main penthouse floor. He was tempted to bypass the kitchen altogether but his stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. "Still not sure if I should throw up or eat."

 

Loki's brow rose. It was glaringly obvious that Stark was feeling quite morose. His mouth was turned down, his body tense. Honestly, if Stark wasn't going to listen to Loki's advice about refraining from wasting energy on useless things like emotion, then why was Loki wasting his time transferring magic to this man?

 

Tony seemed to realize that he need to refuel, so he headed into the room. He stopped when he saw Loki perched on the counter, as if he owned the place, with a vast array of food. It looked like most of the contents of his fridge.

 

Loki hoped the Midgardian would merely change course and leave him be. Instead, he entered the kitchen. Now he'd have to share. Damn.

 

“Ah, glad to see you’ve helped yourself.” Tony got a closer look at the display. “I don’t even recognize some of this stuff. Who ordered it anyway? Broccoli? I hate broccoli.”

 

"Jarvis allowed it," Loki answered. Then he frowned at the broccoli in his hand, following Tony's disparaging comment. "This is quite possibly the most nutritious vegetable grown in your soil. It has a multitude of preventative properties from the strange diseases your kind suffers. Surely you know that?"

 

"Still hate it."

 

Loki sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, went back to eating his vegetable, stock and all.

 

Tony sat down at the breakfast bar and propped his head in his hand. He was actually grateful for the distraction, not wanting to think about his potential wrecked friendship with Bruce. He absently grabbed a carrot stick and took a bite.

 

After quite some time of silence, Loki spoke:  "The existence that forms your artificial intelligence is quite the conversationalist. Quite loyal too. Refused to divulge all your secrets," Loki mentioned, waving a banana in the air.

 

Way to go, Jarvis, Tony thought. The AI definitely deserved a bonus, that is, if he paid him anything in the first place. But then the point was moot anyway. Jarvis knew all his credit card numbers. What would an AI even want?

 

Loki consumed an entire glass of wine, and then refilled it, and still not a word from Stark.  It was odd.  He couldn't place why, but Stark's silence was far more uncomfortable than it should be. Loki could leave, but he wasn't even close to being full. So the polite thing to do was try again to strike up a conversation. This time, one that sparked a bit more emotion. Because he was curious, selfishly so, but curious. "My guess is that something went on downstairs that upset you."

 

Tony smiled wryly at Loki’s question. He put down the carrot, now finding it completely unappealing.

 

“Now that is the understatement of the century. Let’s just say the Hulk does not approve of your healing methods nor my reaction to it. Kinda let that slip. Bruce and Cap were not amused either. Thor got thrown through a wall."

 

"Now that, I am sorry I missed."

 

"How is this my life? What did I do to deserve this level of craziness? Now, on top of everything, I feel like shit again.” Tony’s head hit the counter with a distinct thump.

 

"You wasted what I gave you. Stop doing that." Loki peeled an orange, biting into it like an apple.

 

“Jarvis," Tony whined. "Remind me the next time I feel the need for more friends, I’ll just build some more, okay?”

 

“Duly noted sir. Should I order the parts now?” There was a definite hint of amusement in Jarvis’ reply. “Might I add, sir, that you really should eat something. It’s been far too long since your last real meal.”

 

“On second thought who needs friends? Especially the nagging kind.” Tony’s muffled voice intoned from the countertop.

 

"Are you always this pathetic?" Loki asked, no bite to his tone. He selected a loaf of bread and sliced a couple of pieces. He chose several kinds of meats that were already thinned and added a hearty chunk of cheese to it. He added some condiments, onions, lettuce and a few slices of tomato. He smashed the other slice on top of it with his hand and put it in front of Stark. "Eat. If you die, I no longer have sanctuary here. That would be most problematic for me."

 

“Am I always this pathetic? Yeah on every second Tuesday of the month. I’ve got it written down on my schedule so I don't forget.” Tony picked up the sandwich and took a large bite. Amazingly enough, his stomach didn’t rebel.

 

Loki stood up, feet on the surface of the countertop, and walked towards the cabinet where the wine glasses were. He was tall enough to stretch across the opening, only stepping on a few pieces of celery in the process. Then he returned to his nest and poured Tony a glassful of wine

 

Tony watched as the trickster strolled across the breakfast bar. If this was his forte, there were several strip clubs Tony knew of that would welcome the long, lean god with open arms.

 

"Tell me more about Thor getting thrown through the wall," Loki prompted. "If you entertain me, I'll share a bit of magic with you, what little I've collected in my slumber. But honestly Stark, if you are to waste my efforts so frivolously, what is the point? You should also use the warm bath often, as I suggested earlier. It leaches out the poison from your skin. Doesn't help much with what's in your muscle tissue, cells, bone marrow,” he shrugged, sounding far more grave than intended, "but, well, you seem smart enough to get the idea."

 

He popped a raspberry in his mouth and waited to be regaled. This scene was far too domestic and comfortable, but Loki couldn't seem to tear himself away, so he pushed the notion aside.

 

“Well, the audience in Coulson’s room didn’t appreciate my mentioning a newly discovered kink for magic. Cap got all indignant, Bruce hulked out, and Thor ran to the rescue. He got slammed through the wall for his efforts. Left an impressive hole. Now, apparently, I am supposed to take relationship advice from the Hulk. In his own words he bellowed in my face ‘no nookie’ which is a euphemism for S.E.X.”

 

Loki's laughter bubbled up and his grin lasted longer than it should. "I told you sharing your bed with me would win you no honor."

 

“Yeah well, it never stopped me before,” Tony grumbled.

 

"Nookie," Loki repeated, the word sounding odd from his tongue. "You should hear some of the slang terms the skrulls use."

 

Tony smiled and took another bite of the sandwich before his appetite fled completely. The billionaire figured he’d better finish the meal or Loki might get annoyed with him too. He picked up the glass of wine and downed the contents in a few gulps, then ate the last bit of bread and sighed. “Now Bruce is pissed at me and ready to flee my presence. The others, I’m not so sure about. And thanks there for the information on the eventual erosion of my innards. I appreciate that tidbit. Make sure to pass that along to Bruce if he’s still here in a few hours."

 

Tony held out his empty glass for a refill and wished it was something stronger.

 

"My guess is that his scientific curiosity won't let him leave your laboratory. He has to solve the riddle of the poison, does he not? His pride will want him to win that accolade, if for nothing more than to keep it from me."

 

"Maybe. I guess we'll see," Tony said, sounding downtrodden and unconvinced. "Oh, and you might want to make yourself scarce. Black Widow and Hawkeye are on their way to see Coulson.”

 

"That is information you could've shared with me in the beginning of this conversation." Even though Loki was annoyed at Tony's casual mention of the threat to his person, he picked up the wine bottle and refilled Tony's glass, as a good house guest should. "I do not believe it is in our best interests to have Banner, Barton, and Romanoff privy to our affairs arrangements, Stark. I understand you can block off access to certain portions of your Tower, so I strongly suggest that plan. I'll remind you that if harm comes to me, it also comes to you."

 

Tony drained his glass again and set it on the counter with a sharp click. “Ah, so there it is. The blackmail portion of our arrangement. Do I look like an idiot? Having Barton and Romanoff know you’re here would be disastrous, so hole up in my penthouse and don't leave. There’s no reason for anyone to go up there but me. And yeah, I get it, you disappear and I’m dead. Not exactly the way I wanted to end up, but not surprising really though. I’m amazed I’ve lived this long."

 

"I'm beginning to agree with you about that."

 

"Yeah, so here’s the deal: I continue to give you a place to hide, you figure out how to fix me. After that? All bets are off. You can go wherever the fuck you want, that is, if Thor lets you off the leash.”

 

"Leash?" Loki narrowed his eyes. Everything was agreeable, up to the part where Stark made the comparison of Loki being controlled by Thor. “You dare insult me, after acknowledging the truth that I hold your life in my hands? You are as mad as I am.”

 

He swung his legs over the edge of the bar and landed on the other side, across from Tony. “You deserve no reward for your asinine comments.”

 

Loki flicked his wrist, and what could only be described as gob of green glowing magic darted directly for the Midgardian.

 

Tony felt the overwhelming urge to duck. The expression of Loki’s face very similar to the one he had right before Tony had been thrown out his window. Tony tried to dive for cover but the magic found its intended target.

 

It might have all gone as Loki had planned, if it hadn’t hit Tony’s arc reactor.

 

The wad of magic ricocheted and landed on the bar. It spread out like fingers of lighting throughout the food and drink before dissipating down the edges of the countertop like dry ice.

 

Loki stopped mid-step, his eyes widened, and then something screamed.

 

It was an odd noise, high pitched from something that sounded very, very tiny.

 

And then everything on the countertop began to move. Rapidly. On tiny little legs. As if war had been declared among food. The berries stuck together, running towards the napkin holder for shelter. The kiwi was oddly aggressive, tiny mouths clamping down on the raw potatoes as if they were candy.  And the carrots were obviously the smarter of the lot, using their height to their advantage.

 

“Stark,” Loki said, voice a bit higher than he’d admit. He threw the lemon in his hand at the man in what would probably be perceived as an attack, but it nailed the cantaloupe that was seconds away from taking a bite out of Starks palm. It toppled over the edge to its death at Tony's feet.

 

“This is all your fault,” Loki shouted before Stark could say a word. “That… thing in your chest, it changes my magic. This is your doing!”

 

Tony stared incredulously at the food based mayhem. He distantly wondered if this was some weird acid flashback. Magic… something he had no fucking experience with obviously animated the inanimate. For one split second Tony’s brain gleefully noted what he could do with that kind of power. The he had to dive for cover as the aforementioned perishables became unruly.

 

“My fault? What the fuck did you do?" Tony hissed as he ducked a barrage. "Make it stop. I’ve had my quota of weirdness for the day. Turn it off!”

 

“Sir, my sensors indicate a surge of unknown energy. Are you in any danger?” Jarvis questioned.

 

“Fuck if I know! Shut it off, Loki, before Jarvis raises an alarm.” Tony backed away from the chaos to a safe distance, somewhere in the vicinity of behind the sofa. So far, the carnage had been contained in the kitchen.

 

After this, Tony doubted he’d be able to watch the Sorcerer's apprentice ever again.

 

Loki hated that he had such little control over his magic right now. Some of it had to do with the arc reactor, but the rest was just his extreme fatigue. That, and he kept doling out what little energy he gathered to use as magic to Stark. It left him depleted. Angry and depleted. One cannot give away what one does not first have.

 

And there was that nagging sense of embarrassment again. This was not a far cry from the episode in the bedroom.

 

He shouted a single word, a curse in high elvish that Frigga’s brother would be ashamed to hear from his nephew. With that curse, a black cloud dispersed like an atom bomb with Loki at the center. It rushed outward in two heartbeats, turning all animated food into shriveled up, rotten muck before they disappeared entirely.

 

When the fast-moving black cloud got to Stark, it parted in the middle, rushed around him, and dissipated when it hit the walls and windows.

 

Loki sank to the cold marble floor and rested his back against the refrigerator.

 

"Hel. Please come take me now," he begged. Loki didn't want to listen to Stark's insults about his apparent lack of skill when he was such a renowned an expert in his craft. And when Thor heard of this debacle, this amateur spectacle, Loki would suffer his heckling as well.

 

“Well, that was exciting,” Tony commented as he crept back into the room. “Not so keen on the making of magic if this is the result. What happened, exactly, because the last time you used magic, it actually helped, which you know, I’m all grateful for, but this? This was just all kinds of wrong, possibly dangerous too if you had animated something much bigger with more tonnage, like vehicles or machinery. And that would not endear your presence here to anyone."

 

"Oops," Loki said mockingly, lifting his hands up in a show of insolence. "It was just supposed to a bit of fun. Everything you ate or drank for the next few hours would've tasted like broccoli. But your reactor… it ruined my entertainment."

 

"Okay, well, did this little show of lashing out at me solve anything?" Tony asked, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the counter. At this point, he felt like he was dealing with a child instead of a supposed centuries-old god from another realm. "And I'm still pissed, by the way. I don’t take demands well, especially when I’ve risked practically everything letting you stay. I can’t throw you out. You’re kind of a needed commodity now..."

 

Loki said nothing, just continued to stare at Stark like an irritated teenager.

 

"More petulance, okay," Tony said, rubbing his forehead. "You know, someone once told me I needed a reason to change. Maybe you need to find yours too.”

 

But instead of leaving the room, Tony found himself seated on the floor, chin resting in his hand, studying the Asgardian across from him. He just could not figure Loki out, nor his rather unhealthy fascination with the exotic being. Shit. Maybe he was crazy, like everyone always accused him of being.

 

"Alright. First," Loki finally said, sharply, "Thor does not restrain nor control me. Do not ever presume anyone can put a leash or collar on me for long. And second," he explained, his tone lightening and his mouth turning up in mirth, "who would've thought the Man of Iron is afraid of animated food?"

 

“Animated food? That’s one for the what-the-hell-did-I-smoke-last-night category. Food doesn't scare me on its own, but wild magic, on the other hand, that was terrifying. And I really don’t need anything interfering with this.” Tony tapped the arc reactor sitting in his chest.

 

Loki's eyes landed on the reactor, settled there until he had to tear his eyes from its possibilities.

 

Tony watched Loki's face during his inner struggle with thoughts of the arc reactor. Not feeling the least bit threatened, oddly enough, he then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The cool metal of the refrigerator felt good against his aching head. Then, he laughed ruefully. “We are one messed up pair."

 

Stark referring to them as a "pair" amused Loki. This man was completely insane. He could enjoy that.

 

"And I hate to tell you, but yeah," Tony continued. "Thor is kinda in charge of you while you’re here. As much as you might hate it, its the only way the rest of them will even let you stay.”

 

"Thor could never control me," Loki stated, "but, I will agree to respect your wishes while I am here."

 

"Good to hear it."

 

"Your iron suit," Loki began, thinking about Stark's description of wild magic, "you designed it for a specific reason, and yet it has other advantages you did not foresee. Obviously, you built it for it's weaponry, for flight, for defense, but I'm certain hidden benefits have been discovered along the way."

 

Tony snorted in amusement. “Yeah, a specific reason, not an altruistic one either. I’m not a hero. I built that suit initially for survival and modified it for revenge on those that would steal my tech, my weapons, and use them for acts of terrorism. This whole hero thing was accidental. Simply put, I protected what is mine. But yeah, it allows me enhanced strength, flight, repulsor weaponry, extended auditory and visual ranges too. But without the suit? I’m just your average genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

 

"How I wield magic is similar, but I intend every detail of it, and it serves my will at my bidding," Loki explained. "I have nurtured certain strengths, as you have with your design for your suit. With those strengths I have carefully honed have come advantages in areas I did not formally study. Added benefits, so to speak. On the other hand," he mumbled reluctantly, "there are aspects of magic that I am not as well versed, the healing arts being one of them."

 

Loki leaned forward and grabbed a dish towel off the edge of the bar, wiping his thumb with the cloth. The red of a raspberry stained it. "I have the capacity to heal to some degree, as demonstrated earlier, although that was quite a strange experience. Obviously, my game, as Thor calls it, is still slightly off. Throw your reactor in the fray, and well, the consequence appears to be wild magic."

 

“Well, warn a guy next time. And 'oops' is not considered a sufficient concession. I don’t think my life can take anymore craziness."

 

"If you are looking for serenity, I must remind you of one of my many titles contains the word chaos. You will find little peace with me."

 

"Yeah, well, I'm hoping I've come into this in the calm between your storms."

 

Don't bet on it, Loki refrained from saying.

 

"So what happens now? I’m not looking forward to the whole dying thing," Tony admitted. "So you’d better brush up on those so called healing skills. And I’m kinda wondering if anyone was able to talk Bruce down off the ledge. He was distinctly not happy with either of us earlier. We do need his help. Maybe between the two of you, an answer can be found. Although we need to do a lot of ass-kissing in the future if we want him on board.”

 

While Loki rolled his eyes, Tony levered himself to his feet and surveyed the kitchen. He was satisfied that it no longer looked like Food-agedon had taken place, so he held out his hand to the Asgardian on the floor. “We’d better not get caught cozied up in the kitchen. Who knows what they’ll think.”

 

"You don't seem like a man who cares what others think," Loki commented, taking Tony's hand. "I'd like it if you'd arrange Banner and I on different floors. I will do what I can to aid in maintaining your health, but the doctor will have to control himself. And we all know that's an issue."

 

“Different floors, right. Good idea. Jarvis, make sure the contractors are here early Monday morning. Restrict them to the floor below the penthouse and the medical facility, which, by the way, I want to expand on. I have a feeling we’ll need it. Loki, you can use my penthouse suite until the renovations are done.”

 

“Will do, sir," Jarvis replied. "I imagine you wish to go ahead adding to the private residences as detailed on the blueprints?"

 

"Absolutely."

 

"Yes, sir, and I would like to advise you that Captain Rogers is on his way up in the elevator."

 

“Got it," Tony said, giving the area one last glance over for anything out of place. When he found nothing, he turned back to Loki. "As for Bruce goes, push the right buttons, and he’ll explode. Threatening my well-being apparently seems to be one of them. He and the Hulk seem to have a soft spot for me, although I can’t fathom why.”

 

Tony sat back down on one of the breakfast bar stools and looked longingly at the coffee machine.

 

“Tony? Jarvis said you were in the kitchen?” Steve hesitated at the door when he saw Loki. “I found some plywood from the construction supplies. Thor helped me patch the hole in the wall. Dr. Banner said there was no change in Coulson's condition after the… argument. Bruce was still upset though. Maybe you should try and talk to him when he’s calmed down?”

 

"When will that happen?" Loki muttered.

 

“I made some soup," Steve said, ignoring the jab. He walked by the dark prince to stir the pot that simmered on the stove. "You are welcome to try some,” he said, extending the olive branch, so to speak.

 

Stark and I ate together," Loki answered tersely. "I'm sure he's had quite his fill."

 

Steve’s back stiffened at Loki’s obviously condescending tone. He grit his teeth and heard a distinct ‘snap’. Steve looked down in dismay. The wooden spoon he’d been stirring the soup with was now in two pieces. He made it a point not to turn around until the trickster made his exit.

 

Steve turned and looked at the billionaire lounging at the counter. He did not seem all that well. He was paler than Steve liked to see and there were shadows under his eyes. “Tony, I know it's your life, and I admit that Loki has shown some potential at being a solution to this problem, but just be careful. Please?”

 

“I don’t think I can use ‘careful’ in the same sentence with Loki." Tony dropped his head into his hands.

"Man, I am so screwed. And I don’t mean that in the fun way.”

 

The overwhelming urge to try and fix things was frustrating. Steve was floundering in new territory without a clue as to what to do. Without thinking, Steve placed another steaming bowl of soup in front of Tony. He lifted Tony’s hand and placed a spoon there. “Eat. Despite what Loki said, I doubt you’ve had enough to make up for the meals you skipped. You have to stay strong to fight off the poison.”

 

Steve went to the refrigerator and got out the milk. He poured Tony a glass and placed it beside the soup.

 

Tony looked at the white liquid, horrified. “I am not drinking that. Not unless there is scotch in there somewhere. The only place milk belongs is on my cereal or to dip cookies into.”

 

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just eat, Tony.”

 

“Fine, fine, just don’t make with the puppy dog eyes. My heart can’t take it.” Tony grumbled as he took a bite of the soup. Despite already being full, it still tasted good.

 

Steve dished himself out a large bowl and sat down beside Tony. He grabbed the milk he’d poured and took a drink. He didn’t want it to go to waste. As they ate, Steve vowed that if he had to follow Tony around to make sure he didn’t hurt himself, then that is exactly what he’d do.

 

Thor walked into the kitchen, and if he had been Midgardian, he'd have looked like a hard-working father who'd come home after a twelve-hour day on a construction site. He had plaster and dried blood on his face and his hair was certainly in need of a combing. He looked generally irritated.

 

"I'm so hungry I could eat a golden hind," he said. "May I," he asked, pointing at Steve's soup on the stove.

 

“Help yourself,” Steve said.

 

Soup was ladled out until it nearly overflowed over the brim of the bowl. Thor sipped it right from the lip, forgoing a spoon. He blew on the liquid, took another hearty gulp, and then grinned at Steve. "This is very good." 

 

After downing the bowl, Thor refilled it.

 

"Tell me, Tony Stark," he said, finally picking up a spoon and stabbing it towards the genius, "Why is Loki spending so much time in your bed chambers? You do know he's a cunning liesmith who can talk the blue out of the sky."

 

“Obviously, my penthouse is the most secure floor in the tower. It was the first level repaired and has the most state of the art tech to discourage prying eyes. Also a ton of other security measures I won’t bore you with. I can make sure others stay away and keep watch on our delinquent godling. Plus, he’s not bad company. He did try and heal me a bit when he had next to no magic to spare. Yeah, I doubt he did it out of the goodness of his heart, but for right now, we need each other.”

 

Tony laid down his spoon. He wanted to go after Loki. It was weird but he felt a kind of a pull to follow. There was no way in hell he was going to share that little bit of info either.

 

Thor eyed him suspiciously then went back to the stove and refilled his bowl a third time. When he turned around, he leaned against the counter to face his friends.

 

"Loki has always been a loner. There have been very few who call him friend. He prefers it that way," Thor explained, not really understanding, but accepting his brother's personality all the same. "I will agree that it can be quite enjoyable to be in Loki company," he said quite fondly, recalling some distant memories of time gone by, "but Loki can also be unforgiving and cruel if you cross him."

 

He gave up on the spoon, downed the rest from the rim of the bowl, and then belched after. "My compliments," he said to Steve, raising the bowl once again before disposing of it on the counter in front of both men, as if they would take care of it.

 

"Tony Stark, my brother will seduce you," he said bluntly, leaning on the counter with both hands flat against its surface. He waited until he had Tony's full attention.  "My fear is that you want him to."

 

They started at each other for a few seconds before Thor stood fully upright again.

 

"I will take my leave," he nodded, prince-like. "And again, I thank you for your hospitality."

 

Steve watched Thor leave and turned to Tony with a wounded look in his eyes. “Is that what you want, Tony?”

 

“I can handle myself. Loki won’t do anything to harm to me," Tony scoffed as if the idea was ludicrous. "Now, I am going to head up to my suite and sack out on the couch. I estimate it’ll be a couple of hours before Natasha gets here with Barton, and I’m going to need all my strength to deal with that mess.”

 

Tony got up and unobtrusively braced himself on the counter for a moment. Then, he headed out of the kitchen.

 

Did he want Loki to seduce him? Tony had to admit, the idea thrilled him. It was an incredibly stupid idea, but ever since Loki had strutted around his penthouse like he owned the place during the Invasion, Tony had to admit to a little bit of simple, uncomplicated lust on his part… that is, until he’d taken a header out that window.

 

Now, with Loki in his bed, it was tempting… very, very tempting.

 

“Jarvis, let me know when Agents Romanoff and Barton get here. Allow them access to the medical facility, but under no circumstances let them up to the penthouse,” Tony ordered as he stepped into the elevator.

 

“Very well, sir. I shall do so.”

 

Steve got up and started to tidy the kitchen. He needed to keep busy to quell the lingering anxiety. Steve had seen that look in the eyes of his Howling Commandos when they'd been given a three-day furlough to a French whorehouse. Tony had that exact same look when he left the room. Everything was fine and dandy until they had to leave, then the long faces and heartache began. Steve wasn't sure who would be worse - Tony or Loki - if their relationship didn't work out.

 

God help them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter coming up with an advocate for Loki, an evil lurking in the background, and the assassins finally arriving at the Tower. (Also, COULSON ♥.)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter! It came back from editing a few days early! Hope you enjoy.

 

It was dark by the time Natasha pulled into the parking garage of Stark Towers. The fact that the door opened when they approached led the assassin to believe they were expected. Steve must have informed Tony they were on their way.

 

Natasha parked the car in a VIP spot right next to the bank of elevators that would take them to the lobby. She only hoped they had access to Tony’s private elevator from there. If anyone tried to stop them, she would be seriously annoyed.

 

“Clint? We’re here.” Natasha said quietly as she touched his arm.

 

“Hmmm? Okay, yeah,” the archer answered, uncharacteristically distracted.

 

Fearing that he was emotionally shutting down, a tactic she had perfected years ago, Natasha grasped Clint’s chin and turned his head towards her. He seemed to look right through her. It was disconcerting and caused a chill to go down her spine.

 

“Clint!” Natasha snapped and dug her fingers in.

 

“What?” Clint flinched and finally seemed to come back to the here and now.

 

“Are you going in or not?” It wasn’t really a question. Natasha would still drag Clint in if she had to.

 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

 

Clint’s voice still sounded off to her. Her anxiety grew as they walked towards the private elevator.

 

“Welcome back Agent Romanoff. How may I be of assistance?” Jarvis asked.

 

“We’re here to see Agent Coulson.” Natasha pulled Clint with her into the lift when Jarvis opened the doors. He was still completely distracted, which unnerved Nat to no end.

 

“Of course Agent Romanoff. He is in the newly-renovated medical wing. When the doors open, just follow the hallway straight out and it is the first room on your left.”

 

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Natasha said, then backed Clint against the wall. “What is wrong with you? I have a distinct urge to shake you back to reality."

 

“I don’t know, Nat. Something’s not right. I just need to see him,”  Clint replied absently. This time, when the doors opened, he took the lead.

 

Natasha’s foreboding grew. It got bad enough that she wanted to grab Clint and run away, but she followed the archer, watching him closely.

 

Clint walked down the hallway in the medical wing, not bothering to acknowledge Dr. Banner or the nurses seated at the large station in direct sight of the elevator. Clint got to Coulson's room and paused before the closed door. His breathing accelerated and he began to sweat. He could do this. He had to see him.

 

Bruce had Coulson's files spread out over the circular nursing staff desk in the center of the med bay. He was alone - which was preferred right now - and reviewing the files on Coulson's neurologic tests. He was also trying to figure out his next move, as far as leaving Stark Tower. He had a niggling voice in the back of his head that told him he should apologize and beg to stay. The doctor startled when he heard the elevator chime, and he prayed it wasn't Tony who would walk through the doors and kick him out for all the horrible things he'd said to the man.

 

So it was a mixture of pleasantly surprised and simultaneous sadness to see Clint and Natasha step out of the lift. The Black Widow always did things to him that were confusing, both physically and emotionally, both good and bad. But Clint Barton, the man was a train wreck, understandably so.

 

This was the one person for whom Bruce had prepared a speech. He had rehearsed it, edited it, and had prepared to put on kid gloves to deliver it. Not because Clint was weak, but because he'd probably tried and found himself guilty for putting Coulson in that bed. None of it was true, but Banner wasn't born yesterday. Betraying one's allegiance, any way you looked at it, was a road to self-loathing so painful that death seemed the best option for relief from that kind of pain.

 

"Natasha?" Bruce questioned, when he realized Clint wasn't stopping to even say hello. She didn't stop either, just shared a worried look with the doctor while following in the archer's footsteps.

 

Bruce took off his glasses and followed behind them.

 

Finally, Clint shoved the door open and walked inside the room. It took him a moment to locate Phil in the large suite. It was arranged like a high class hotel room, only with state of the art medical equipment instead of ostentatious decor.

 

Coulson's bed was along the back wall. He was hooked up to several machines monitoring his vitals. The agent was pale and still. The only indication he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest.

 

“Phil...” Clint’s strangled voice broke the silence of the room.

 

Natasha wanted to rush right over to her handler but she needed to give Clint a few moments alone. She also immediately spotted the other occupant in the room. When Bruce looked in her direction, she frowned and said, “Clint's acting odd. It’s almost as if… it's like when he...”

 

Clint made it to Phil’s bedside and recognized more than just his handler's appearance.

 

Barton began shaking, and this time, it was with more than fear and anxiety. Rage, pure undiluted rage filled him. He could finally put a name to the odd feeling that had been plaguing him since he entered Stark's building. He'd felt this before. He'd felt that twisted perverted power that now had its claws in Agent Phil Coulson.

 

“Let him go!” Clint yelled, reaching for Phil’s shoulders. As soon as he made contact, a familiar crawling sensation arced through him and Clint’s spine went ramrod straight. He grit his teeth and his eyes changed to a distinct azure aura.

 

The room whited-out and Clint tried to pull away. Then he was somewhere else. A bright blue light filled his vision and he could feel that he wasn’t alone. Standing before him on a featureless blue-tinged plane was a very familiar figure.

 

“Coulson!” Clint cried out.  He wanted to grab the man in front of him and never let go, but he felt frozen and immobile.

 

“Agent Barton,” Coulson said, walking up to Clint to stand directly in front of him. He folded his hands together in front of his body, feet apart in typical at-ease stance. He took in a breath through his nose and exhaled - examining, contemplating, and determining Clint’s state of mind. “You look terrible. Wouldn’t be punishing yourself for things beyond your control, would you? Because that would be incredibly counterproductive.”

 

Clint fumbled for words. Here was the man that haunted his dreams for months, and Coulson was merely acting like he wanted a status update, like he hadn't been gone and buried in everyone's hearts and minds.

 

“I thought you were dead. I was told you were dead. I mourned you, damn it! And you just stand here… and… and...”

 

"Clint," he said, stepping closer. He gently wrapped his hand around the back of Barton's neck, pulling him a step closer. "We can't do this right now. You can't stay here," he said firmly but not without compassion. "I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time now, and I need you to use the resources available to you to extract me from this place. You and Selvig know how.  SHIELD doesn't even recognize what's happening, but you do," he said, emphasizing his confidence in Clint by lowering his voice to a whisper.

 

"But…"

 

"No. I'm counting on you, Barton. Now go," he ordered, stepping back away from Clint. The corner of his mouth turned up a fraction and his face softened. He used the pad of his index finger to push on Clint's forehead. "Go."

 

“But I…,” Clint started to protest. He didn’t want to leave. He hadn’t said any of the things that he’d wanted to say… Then he doubled over in pain. Something was pulling on him, pulling him away from Coulson.

 

Natasha was moving towards Clint the minute he yelled. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest when she got close enough to see the distinct blue glow in his eyes. Then Clint’s hands were on Coulson’s shoulders and he simply stopped moving. His eyes remained open though, as if there was no one inside his body or mind anymore. Natasha cursed when she saw the same blank, blue-tinged gaze mirrored on Phil’s face, eyes open, staring blankly.

 

“Banner! It is the Tesseract. Somehow it has them both. How the hell is that possible?” Natasha shouted.

 

"The Tesseract?" Bruce repeated. "Are we under attack again?"

 

The monitors began to whine, filling the room with loud alarms. “I don’t know! What do I do?”

 

For once in her life, Natasha was at a loss.

 

"They were okay separately, so let's get Clint out of this room. Natasha, let me do it." He tried to push her gently away, trying to tell her he was going to let the Other Guy try to deal with Clint.  Because this Barton was dangerous to himself and everyone around him. He killed without hesitation, without remorse. Could Barton even survive that kind of manipulation again? Bruce knew Barton would never forgive himself if he hurt Natasha.

 

"Jarvis?" Bruce shouted, remembering how easily the Hulk had been influenced on SHIELD’s Helicarrier by Loki’s scepter. If the Tesseract could manipulate Barton and Coulson, maybe it could influence the Hulk too. Perhaps that was why he’d gone postal on Tony earlier and couldn’t seem to let go of his anger towards Loki? He swallowed his anxiety and told the Other Guy to stay calm. "Jarvis, we really need help down here."

 

"I informed sir and Captain Rogers of the situation," the AI answered. "They are on their way momentarily."

~*~

 

Tony lay dozing on the couch in his quarters when Jarvis’ loud voice interrupted his much needed sleep.

 

“Sir, there is an emergency on the medical level in Agent Coulson’s room. It happened just after Agents Romanoff and Barton arrived.”

 

Tony ran a hand through his hair and tried to kick his brain into gear. “Shit. Shit, okay.  I’m heading down there now.”

 

Then he took off at a dead run for the elevator.

 

Steve, sitting in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea now long gone cold, stared out the windows at the rain soaked city. Lost in his own thoughts Jarvis’ sudden alert to an emergency had him accidentally knocking the cup off the counter. It shattered on the tile floor as he left the room, going as fast as he could to the med bay and dreading what he might find there.

 

Loki paused mid conversation with Thor and turned towards the doorway. He held up a finger to silence the blond prince.

 

"Something has gone terribly wrong," he mumbled.

 

"Then I must go help," Thor answered

 

"No," Loki demanded, reaching out to grab Thor's arm. "Wait. We may need to flee."

 

"Flee?" Thor repeated. "Why, brother? Do you know what is happening?"

 

"Something is moving through this Tower," Loki stated, eyes darting around the room. "Something I wish to never cross paths with again."

 

"What is it? Thor prompted. When he got no answer from Loki, he prompted Jarvis to answer.

 

"I do not know what he is speaking of, but I will advise you as the situation in the medical bay unfolds."

 

~*~

 

The monitors sounded like sirens wailing, indicating Coulson's imminent death, or something worse. Bruce finally pushed Natasha away, something he'd not normally do.  "Go get me the crash cart from the room next door."

 

He hoped she'd take the bait. Of course there was one in Coulson's room, but perhaps she hadn't been aware enough yet to notice? He could only hope. "Now," he commanded.

 

Natasha, torn between wanting to stay or having to watch Coulson die, finally backed away to get the equipment Banner asked for.

 

The moment she turned away, he placed his hand on Clint's shoulders and readied himself to pull the agents apart. Bruce expected a roundhouse kick, an upper cut, an arrow to the gut, something. He only hoped the serum that made him the Hulk didn't fail him now.

 

Stark and Rogers arrived at nearly the same time and ran into the room. Tony immediately went to the bed. He stared in shock at the unfolding tableau. Clint was at Coulson’s bedside with his hands on the agent. He seemed rooted to the spot and Phil’s eyes were open and filled with an unearthly glow.

 

“Doctor, what’s happening?” Steve yelled over the din.

 

“Well, the consensus seems to be that the Tesseract has its hooks in Agent Coulson. It seems Barton triggered something and got himself messed up in it too when he made physical contact. It's all very sci-fi drama.”

 

Tony tried to lunge for Bruce as he forcibly parted the two agents because it appeared the separation was not gentle. A bright flash of blue lit up the room. Clint was flung backwards and Coulson’s body went limp as the connection between them was severed.

 

Steve dove for Clint and kept him from impacting with the wall. He sat on the floor, practically cradling the stunned archer in his arms.

 

Natasha was back at his side in seconds, her hands framing Clint’s face. She’d have to have a ‘little chat’ with Bruce about his attempts to distract her later, but right now her concern was with her partner.

 

"Someone tell me this is Loki's doing, because this is a signature chaos move right here" Bruce said.

 

As the drama began to wind down, he walked over to the monitors and turned some of them off. Others, he pulled the plug on and purposefully shoved them out of the way. He resorted to taking Phil's pulse with his fingers and the seconds on his watch in the now blissfully silent room.  It was deafening compared to the beeping and squealing and adrenaline-filled blood rushing through their ears just moments earlier.

 

"Want to know what an unlimited energy source does to medical equipment?" the doctor asked rhetorically. "Most of this equipment is completely fried. That cord's melted and the neuro monitoring should be seared into Phil's skull right about now. So if Coulson and Barton don't have soup for brains, then have Jarvis do a scan for Jesus, because you're witnessing a miracle in the Tower today."

 

Tony looked at all the smoking and sizzling equipment. Ah well, he’d done much worse in his own workshop. “I’ve never been particularly religious but we can hope for that miracle. And uh, nope. It can’t be Loki. He’s weak as a kitten right now. Couldn’t harm a fly.”

 

When Natasha heard Loki’s name, she shot Bruce and Tony a laser sharp glare.

 

Seeing The Black Widow glaring at him made Tony want to scramble for the suit. “Oh shit."

 

No one seemed to notice Steve frantically shaking his head to try and silence Tony. Damn, this was not going to end well at all, Steve thought.

 

“Why are you talking about Loki?” Natasha demanded. “I thought he was back on Asgard? But then if that were true, how would you know about his well being, Stark?”

 

Tony backed up slowly until he was mostly behind Bruce, in case Natasha suddenly started flinging knives.

 

The doctor frowned, watching Tony move in behind him. Then he followed Tony's line of vision to Natasha. They kind of did a dance of who was going to be in harm's way until Bruce realized he was being utterly foolish. He'd have to take the brunt of her wrath. The Other Guy could survive it, and God knows he had to start making amends towards Tony, so he protectively tucked the engineer in behind him.

 

"I suppose this goes a little way towards making up after our fight?" he asked, not taking his eyes of Romanoff for a moment. "Try to remember this when I'm being shredded to pieces for your sake."

 

“Pffft, what fight? Already forgotten about it," Tony said. "Hey Cap? Why don't you tell her about this delicate situation? She seems to like you.”

 

“What? How did I get dragged into this?” Steve sputtered.

 

“Will all of you just shut the fuck up for a minute?" Clint said, trying to recover from the cradle of Steve’s arms.

 

"Shit. Did anyone get the number of the truck that hit me?”

 

“Clint, what happened?" Natasha asked. She was relieved to see the blue tinge had left Clint's warm hazel eyes. They still seemed a bit unfocused and were slitted with pain, but he was coming back to himself. "It took you again. How is that even possible?”

 

Despite the possible indignity of being held in Captain America’s arms, Clint decided to stay right where he was. The archer felt like he’d been turned inside out and his head was pounding in time with his heart beat. Truth be told, though he would not admit it even under torture, it was nice to have a warm solid body at his back.

 

"Uh," Bruce said to Tony, "I'd like to point out that the global threat to humanity has returned, and it's in Stark Tower again. Kind of full circle. We're all here. Again. Except for the fleet of alien thugs, and those could be springing out of Loki's ass like ugly rainbows any second now."

 

"The Chitauri race was annihilated by the Man of Iron," Thor said, entering the room. He took in the scene, hammer in hand, his face grim. "What is this new threat that has befallen us?"

 

"It's not new," Bruce said, still hiding Tony behind his back. "It's our old frenemy, the Tesseract. And it's hiding in Coulson."

 

“Hey, how was I to know that Stark Tower would become prime real estate for wandering aliens,” Tony started to argue.

 

“Just zip it for a minute,” Steve ordered. “There are more important issues at hand here, such as what happened to Agents Coulson and Barton. Are you alright, Clint?”

 

"Getting there," he answered wearily. "I think."

 

Natasha watched Thor warily. He was not supposed to be here, as far as she knew. If he was here, then maybe…

 

Oh fuck no. Stark wouldn’t.

 

She flowed to her feet, and before anyone could practically blink, she was in Tony’s face.

 

“Tell me your comments about Loki were imagined, Stark. Tell me that he’s not here, right now, in this tower."

 

Tony took a hasty step back, pulling Bruce with him. Nope, not going anywhere ever again without the suit. Because fuck, he really wanted a layer of titanium reinforced armor between his vulnerable flesh and her temper.

 

“Okay, then I _won’t_ tell you that Loki's here. Wish granted,” was all he could think to say in the face of his demise by many sharp pointy objects.

 

“Everybody, knock it off. We need to help Coulson,” Clint interjected. He struggled to sit up and was grateful when Steve helped prop him into a sitting position.

 

He glanced around the room with a deep scowl. "You're right, Nat. Loki is somewhere close by. I can feel him now too."

 

When Clint was in that other place with Phil, he sensed someone else there, something watching, someone pulled in too by the power that had linked them for weeks. Loki's aura was familiar to him now, something he'd never admit to anyone.

 

Clint also somehow knew that Loki was just as reluctantly to be drug back into this as he was. Clint had always known, on some level, of Loki’s struggle at being controlled. That much was made abundantly clear by the flash of panic he'd felt after he connected with Coulson and the three of them had been re-bonded by the Tesseract.

 

“That… That thing is using Coulson. He has become the Tesseract's eyes and ears. We have to break the connection. Please. I don't think there much time left. It will use Coulson up if we let it. We can deal with Loki later, but Nat, I agree with Stark," Clint admitted. He closed his eyes and rubbed his at his throbbing head. "Loki is not the immediate threat right now. He'd want as far away from this as possible, just like me and Phil.”

 

Natasha turned and stalked over to Thor, completely fearless of the fact the Thunder God could flatten her like a pancake. “You will explain to me what the hell is going on after we figure out how to help Coulson. Just assure me that your brother won't endanger us while we figure this out."

 

"My brother is no more a threat to you than you are to him," Thor answered her sternly. "I brought him here, and we were graciously granted permission to stay. I trust you will respect that. But know this: I will protect my brother if you advance on him. Corner Loki, and he will strike in self-defense. I must admit that he is not as he was before during the invasion of your planet. Loki was manipulated by a power stronger than himself. You know of what I speak," he said, looking to Clint.

 

The archer could not stop the involuntary shudder at Thor’s words. “Yeah, I know what its like to have something crawl through my mind, take my memories, my free will, and pervert them. Remake me into something else. It might have done the same to Loki.”

And even though Clint wouldn't say it, right then, while talking about the thing he feared most, he was comforted by Steve’s arms.

 

"Okay, I hear what you're saying, Barton, but I can't imagine that Loki was a stable, upstanding guy back home, running around court like prince charming, doing good deeds for the hell of it. I mean, we've got books with legends on this guy. He's the god of chaos and lies. You've heard the stories, right? Anybody?" Bruce prompted.

 

"Games and foolery is one thing," Thor defended. "Those are as intrinsic to Loki's personality as sarcasm is to yours, Dr. Banner. But trust me when I tell you that the Tesseract has a will for ruin. It is dangerous to all, and if you continue to harbor it here, you are courting destruction. I am convinced that it nearly destroyed my brother when he was under it's influence, as it nearly did your prized archer. I recognize that Loki has never been like the rest of us, but he has strengths and gifts I could never hope to possess. They have been used against Loki himself and against the people of Midgard, and I will not see that happen to him again."

 

“Yeah, it hurt Loki too. They’d call for him, like, summon him inside his mind, and he'd have to answer. Loki and I… we’d talk sometimes when things were quiet. It’s all muddled up in my head, but I know he was just as trapped and unhappy about it as I was."

 

"They?" Tony asked. "I thought the Tesseract was an "it"?"

 

"There were two others. I'd hear them sometimes."

 

"Was Thanos one of them?" Tony said, remembering Loki’s mention of the ringleader.

 

"Jesus," Clint said, nearly cowering. "Don't say his name!"

 

"Okay, okay" Tony tried to appease, hands raised in peace. "Sorry, buddy."

 

"Look, I don't know who controls who, but that thing, when that was in my head? I fought it as hard as I could. Once, when I got free of its influence for just a moment, I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed a knife and tried to cut my own heart out. Loki stopped me, that, or one of them made him stop me. But Loki, he healed me afterwards. I still have a scar. But if you could have seen Loki's face, he was just as tortured by the whole experience as I was. It was definitely using us both against ourselves and against you.”

 

Clint tried to take a deep breath but the air would not come. The more he talked about it, the more the room seemed to close in on him.

 

Steve involuntarily tightened his grip on Clint. He was horrified to hear the archer’s confession.

 

Tony could also remember feeling such bleak despair, late at night as he lay on a filthy cot in a dark cave in the desert.

 

Natasha was back at his side. “No, Clint. Don’t you dare sympathize with him. Loki used you, would have killed you. He forced you to do things that nearly caused you to die inside.”

 

“Look, you don’t understand. None of you do. I can’t describe it unless you'd been there. We couldn’t fight it. We both tried all the time. It found all our weaknesses and exploited them, manipulated us, taunted us with them until it nearly drove us mad. Or in Loki’s case, it did. I know he was under its influence way longer than it was. It like, eroded his soul or something."

 

Thor winced, feeling physically pained by Barton's words.

 

"God, I can see it all clearly now," Clint continued. "And yes, I’m pissed at getting used. Loki was like my commanding officer, with that mind gem in his scepter, so yeah, I’d like nothing better than to beat his face against the nearest brick wall for the things he "suggested" I do, while under his service and the influence of the Tesseract. But all-in-all, I think… I think he might have been just as much a victim as I was. Yes, he can be an asshole and do things just to spite someone, namely Thor, but he doesn't even like us. I don't' think he ever wanted to rule earth at all.”

 

Clint tried to get his shaking under control. Shit. He hated exposing himself like this to everyone in the room, but it had to be done. They had to know what happened. And now, he had to find a way to free Coulson from the Tesseract too.

 

Tony listened to Clint’s ordeal and was thankful as fuck the Tesseract hadn’t gotten a hold of him too. Had that happened, things would have gone drastically different. The billionaire could also empathize with the archer, since he knew what it was like to get all your choices taken away from you. It was impossible to come out of a situation like that unscathed.

 

Thor gripped the leather handle so tightly his knuckles turned white. He scowled at the tiled floor, pained to hear Agent Barton relive the heinous torture he experienced and to hear his brother suffered similarly.

 

Loki had been so raw and bleeding from his soul when he fell into the void of the cosmos. The Tesseract would've latched on to his pain at seemingly being abandoned not only by one father but by two. Loki had no chance at all. And Thor wasn't there to prevent him from falling into the blinding rage and madness it would've offered.

 

But there was also an unfamiliar sense of relief to hear confirmation that Loki's will was being twisted by a force outside himself. Thor was right to hope that the brother he knew and loved would one day return to him. Frigga had told him this, but it was so difficult to see through the fog of pain and destruction that Loki had caused them all.

 

He felt indebted to Barton, to his confession on Loki's behalf. He walked over to the man, set his hammer down on the floor, and knelt on one knee to look Clint directly in the eyes.

 

"We must destroy any trace of the Tesseract so it can no longer harm you. While I still stand, I will never let it take you again."

 

Clint looked into Thor’s bright blue eyes and saw compassion there. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Thunder God spoke the truth. His shaking began to quiet and deep breaths came easier.

 

“Okay," he said with a little more confidence. "Okay. Listen, Coulson said I’d know how to help him. Nat broke my connection to the Tesseract by knocking me out. Similar thing happened with Selvig. But Phil's in a coma. We can’t attack him like that."

 

"Uh no," Bruce piped up. "I can't allow you to concuss Coulson with a proverbial ACME hammer… or Mjolnir, for that matter."

 

"Right," Clint said, his mouth threatening to turn up at the corners in the first sign of relief since he'd entered the Tower. But his fists were still clenched tightly in his lap. "Shit. My head’s killing me. Anyone got anything to make sure my head doesn't just split open?”

 

"That's something I can help with," Bruce said, still not over the fact that Clint nearly completely exonerated Loki from wrong doing. He had a hell of a lot of soul searching to do, particularly if he was going to stay and try to work with the Asgardian on Tony's behalf. He wasn't sure Tony would even let him stay after the things he'd said. But he had to put that aside for now, because Clint was deathly pale and trembling and possibly had suffered electrocution along with God knows what kind of emotional and mental trauma.

 

Bruce had yet to evaluate him. This was the kind of crazy that Loki inspired, he figured.

 

"Can everyone just give him some space," Bruce said, slipping back into doctor mode. He walked over to the man still nestled in Cap's arms. Not a word would be said about that either, or Bruce would let the Other Guy punch their lights out. When Thor backed away, taking his big ass hammer with him, Bruce squatted down nearby. He didn't invade any of Clint's personal space or touch the elite assassin. He needed Clint to calm down, not fire back up.

 

"Can you just take a few deep breaths and try to relax your legs? Stretch them out, flex your feet at the ankles a bit to loosen up your calves. Your legs are biggest muscle group in your body, and right now, they're filling up with lactic acid and adrenaline. That's going to give you one hell of a head rush, not to mention what happened when you were... Okay, wait. Were you actually talking to Agent Coulson?"

 

"Yup," Clint said, matter-of-factly. He tried to concentrate on what Bruce asked him to do. He still felt buzzed and kind of disconnected. He straightened his legs out and winced a little as his muscles twinged. He was happy, though, that he got through his explanation about Loki and the Tesseract without the feared panic attack. He also noted that Natasha stayed close. He fumbled for her hand and grasped it tightly. Cap was even rubbing his back soothingly as his breathing evened out. When he could take a deep breath without his chest aching, he continued answered Bruce’s question. “When I touched Coulson, it was like I was grabbed and pulled in like some freaky black hole in a bad movie. The place was just a… well, I can’t really explain it. It was a featureless plane full of nothingness. And he was there. Coulson was right there, looking as if nothing had happened. He said I had to get him out of there, that I had to help him, like was trapped."

 

"Right. Okay," Bruce said, struggling to process this. He stood up and walked to the doorway, calling out for one of the nurses to bring him specific items."

 

"He's in there, Nat," Clint said. "He's stuck in his own body. He just… Phil's completely aware of everything going on but he can't do anything about it. We have to do something!”

 

Clint was starting to lose it again. He hunched in on himself and tried to pull together.

 

Bruce walked back and put his hand on Steve's shoulder to get his attention. "Don't lose your grip on him," he quietly said. He stood up and turned to Thor again. "We can not let him get close to Agent Coulson. Think of a magnet to metal. We can't let them make that connection again. Everything went to shit when they made contact, so we must avoid that at all costs."

 

Thor moved to stand at the end of Coulson's bed, crossing his arms over his chest to stand guard.

 

"Natasha," Bruce said, "I can give him something to calm him down. Clint doesn't deserve to suffer this again. He's not just retelling the story of what happened, he thinks he is reliving it. His body's not distinguishing past and present. This is the perfect setup for a panic attack. Let me give him something to stop this while we figure out what to do with Coulson."

 

Steve carefully wrapped his arms further around the traumatized archer. He was familiar with this condition. Steve had been there for his own team when the horror of battle had become too much. Like he'd done with his brothers in arms, he held Clint gently but firmly.

 

Natasha got closer to her partner. She laid her hand on the back of his neck. “Clint? Bruce wants to give you something that will help you calm down. I know you don’t like medication, but you need something to help you relax. You’re hurting yourself. Can you let him do that?”

 

Clint just wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop, if just for a little while. He managed a nod.

 

“Alright, Bruce," Natasha said. "Do what you have to.”

 

She stayed close in case, despite Clint’s words, he decided to fight.

 

Bruce jogged out of the room to get the medication he'd relayed to the nurse a minute ago.

 

"You said your commander was the Tesseract's eyes and ears," Thor said to Clint. "If he is aware of all that is happening around him, then he now has hope. He knows you are here, that we are all here, to help free him from it's cruelty. Take heart in knowing you were the herald to usher in his freedom."

 

“Thank you.” Clint managed, even as his clenched fingers cut bloody half moons into the palms of his hands. He thought he'd feel better after unloading his story, but it was like his body was rebelling. "Why am I feeling worse with each second?"

 

"Because your body recognizes the immediate threat of harm, Clint. It's protecting itself instinctually from the damage it knew before," Bruce explained from the doorway. "Not that it will make you feel any better, but this is actually expected after experiencing severe trauma such as what you went through. Your body knows there is a blue-eyed energy source in the room that can hurt you and that we have no idea how to fight it, yet. But we're not going to let it happen again."

 

Banner drew up medicine from a vial into a syringe. He also had a small plastic cup with a tiny pill inside it. He knelt beside the archer again. "Clint, I'd like you to put this pill under your tongue. It's going to be bitter, but it will absorb into your system quicker under your tongue than if it has to travel through your stomach."

 

Bruce tipped the cup into Clint's mouth. He then tore open an alcohol wipe in order to bathe the injection site with it. "This syringe has an anxiolytic and muscle relaxer in it. You may get sleepy. It will also reduce the anxiety you're feeling and help you to relax a bit. It will take a few minutes to work, okay? Are you able to unclench your fist and relax your arm?"

 

Clint lifted face and felt a hot tear roll down his cheek. He swiped at it viciously before nodding. He forced his hand open and held out his arm, hating the trembling of his limbs. Shit. He hadn’t had a reaction this bad since his first night alone after the Battle for New York.

 

Natasha ached for her partner. Hated that his anguish was made so public, but she felt the same as everyone in the room. Clint needed this, to know they cared and accepted him.

 

Bruce administered the injection and held gauze over the needle site. He looked at his watch, knowing that the pill under Clint's tongue would go to work in eight minutes, the injection into muscle within twelve. He told Clint that aloud and then touched Natasha's shoulder gently, nodding towards her partner.

 

"How about you tell us some humorous agent stories until he's feeling better," Bruce asked with a smile. "Or we can make Tony dance the polka to distract him."

 

Bruce turned to look over his shoulder at the billionaire, expecting something brash and humorous. It wasn't until that moment that he realized Tony had been almost completely silent through this entire ordeal. Bruce's smile fell and he felt his stomach drop for the third time this hour.

 

Tony had watched Clint fall apart, his own experiences with PTSD haunting him as he watched it happened to Barton. They were all so fucked up right now. Tony just could not deal with this. He was no good with personal shit and heavy emotions like this. He needed to leave before he fell apart too.

 

"Tony, you okay?"

 

“Yeah, yeah. I just....uh. I need to check on some things. Things in my workshop. Yeah. So, I’ll be back later.”

 

Then Tony fled, his inner voice mocking him all the way down the hall, calling him a coward for not sticking by his friends when they needed his support.

 

Steve could feel the archer gradually relax as Natasha quietly sang something in Russian, her voice low and sweet. She stroked her fingers through his hair until Clint closed his eyes. Cap noticed Tony leaving the room and frowned.

 

Bruce stood, glanced back at Steve who gave him the nod to go after Tony. The Captain looked more than able to handle things as they were. Between Rogers and Thor, Bruce was sure that Clint wasn't getting anywhere near Coulson's bed.

 

"Tony wait," Bruce said, trotting after the genius. "Stop and look at me for a second."

 

It was hard for Tony to do what Bruce asked. He needed some time alone. He needed familiar things around him, things he could lose himself in for a few hours or days. He hated that he didn’t have better control of the situation. That was why he wanted to be in the one place Tony felt he did have control. The billionaire finally did stop but he couldn’t turn to face Bruce, hoping he wasn't going to experience one of his show-stopping anxiety attacks as well.

 

“What?” Tony snapped.

 

Bruce knew the easiest road to a panic attack for a sufferer of post-traumatic stress syndrome was watching someone go through one themselves. He didn't know Tony well enough to recognize his triggers, but he'd bet fleeing to the workshop was the first thing Tony did to try to avoid one. Bruce had laboratories and genetics as a vice, Tony had his workshop and tech. And he'd bet Tony's bots and AI were programmed to not give him any shit about hiding out there either.

 

It was probably the perfect coping mechanism in Tony's mind but it was definitely the most damaging to his psyche. Didn't Tony know that being alone only made the shadows grow taller and the room even lonelier?

 

Or maybe that was just Bruce's demons.

 

What was plain to see was that Tony Stark had shut down. He'd rolled down the shutters, retreated, and suited up to protect himself. Bruce wasn't going to get in, not like this. The doctor opened his mouth several times to speak but nothing seeming appropriate. He wasn't even sure of their relationship anymore.

 

"Jarvis," Bruce redirected, still standing at Tony's side. "What's Loki doing right now?"

 

"He's huddled in a corner trembling, as if a bully took his lunch money on the playground."

 

Bruce frowned, pointed at the ceiling. "Is he kidding? Are you kidding, Jarvis?"

 

"Perhaps I exaggerated a bit," Jarvis confirmed, "but he is showing signs of stress and anxiety: increased heart rate, trembling hands, pacing. At one point, he truly was cowering in a corner. His actions correlate with Agent Barton's reactions to the supposed Tesseract attack. The footage is saved on the common server if you'd like to view it later."

 

"Uh yeah. At some point, that might be entertaining," he said, but realized he suddenly didn't want to see anyone suffering anymore, not even Loki. "Look, Tony, I'll be here if you need anything, that is, if you still want me to stay. We'll all be here. You know, the Avengers. Yeah. God, I totally suck at this. I should've just started with "I'm sorry for presenting my point of view in such a douchebag way earlier," but my anger got the best of me then and my socially inept awkwardness isn't helping at all right now..."

 

He knew he sounded ridiculous, like some badly scripted movie. This conversation wouldn't have worked on himself, wouldn't have helped, and yet he said it anyway.  Truth be told, every one of them had been in the pit of despair multiple times. Escape was their profession. All this hero and fighting business was just a lucky fluke. They were professional loners and did their job quite well, when left alone to do it.

 

"Loki said stress would wear you out. So, please try to take it easy, Tony. We'll work on Coulson after we get Barton calmed down, but I haven't forgotten about you. If Loki really is going to help me, then I'm going to haul his ass down to the lab tomorrow morning and together, we'll work on a fix for you."

 

Tony did look at Banner at that point. He realized that the man was bending over backwards for them all. “Bruce, look, I’m sorry. I know you’re doing your best for us. I’ll take it easy, I promise, I just need to get away for a while. I’m going up to my workshop, but if you need me, just ask Jarvis and he’ll let you in.”

 

Tony never gave anyone access to his lab, but he felt that it was something small he could do to reassure the doctor.

 

"Okay," Bruce said simply. He wanted to say more, more about their argument earlier, about him stepping over the line, but it wasn't the time. He worried about Tony. That was the source of all of this mess between them. He wasn't sure how many people actually did worry about the man's well being. Tony certainly didn't seem to know. But there'd be a time to talk about that later, maybe, because Tony Stark probably didn't talk about stuff like that, and come to think of it, neither did Bruce. But it was really nice to hear kind things said about your efforts, and so he managed a lopsided awkward smile as a show of thanks for Tony's reassurance. "I'll come up and check on you in a little while."

 

“Thanks. Really.” Tony managed a weak smile too and headed into his elevator. He needed to find his own balance again and in the only place he knew he could it. And if Loki was still on his mind, he wasn't going to tell a single soul.

 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

The medicine finally took full effect, and with the combination of drugs and exhaustion, Clint was easier to manage. Steve and Natasha looked at each other with relief.

 

“Jarvis, is there a room where we can take him?” Steve asked.

 

“Yes, Captain. There is a renovated guest room one level up.”

 

Steve released the assassin into Natasha’s arms and stood up, then bent over to help the archer to his feet.

 

Clint allowed himself to be steadied. The drugs in his system did have him calmed down and quite relaxed. Half asleep, the archer was steered towards the door. When he finally realized where they were taking him he suddenly pulled back and tried to struggle. "No, wait."

 

“Clint, stop. We’re just trying to get you into a bed.” Natasha grabbed his arm as he tried to get out of Steve’s grasp.

 

“No. Let me stay," Clint demanded, starting to get agitated. "I don’t want to leave him. Not again.”

 

“Clint, listen to me. You’re not leaving him. We’re going upstairs. There’s a room where you can get some rest. Then you can come right back. I promise.” Steve struggled to hold onto Clint. He didn’t want to hurt him.

 

"Damned drugs," the archer said, shaking his head trying to clear it. “And no. I’m not leaving.”

 

He managed to slip out of Steve’s hold and stagger towards Phil’s bed.

 

“Stop him. Bruce said they can’t touch.” Steve reached for Clint just as Natasha stepped in front of the dazed archer. She put her hands on his shoulders.

 

“What if we take you to that sofa over there? If we let you stay in the room, will you promise to rest?”

 

Clint looked over to Coulson then back to the sitting area in the room. That would work. He nodded at his partner. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm so tired."

 

Natasha put her arm around him and together they made it across the room. He lay down and looked up at her. “Stay, Nat." At the moment, he didn't care if he sounded pathetic. "Please?"

 

“Always.” She said with a soft smile.

 

He was one of the few people who ever got to see such a warm genuine expression on her normally stoically beautiful face. He raised his upper body and Natasha sat down on the couch. Clint laid back down with his head in her lap. Here, he felt safe and could sleep, at last.

 

“Okay?” Natasha ran her fingers through his shorn hair. It was a gesture that always calmed him down.

 

“Yeah.” Clint sighed and closed his eyes. Just to know he was in the same room with Phil was enough for now.

 

“Love him, Nat. Not going to leave him again,” Clint murmured right before he fell asleep.

 

“I know you do. I know," Natasha whispered. "Rest now. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

Steve stood there, feeling distinctly out of place in the face of sentiment, but necessary as a guard of sorts, as they did not want a repeat of the earlier near disastrous episode. But hearing Clint’s declaration of his affection for Coulson caused his own chest to constrict. It took a lot of courage to let someone know you cared… If only he’d been brave enough with Bucky.

 

Natasha spared a glance at the Captain as he stood nearby. When Clint was coherent again, he’d be horrified that someone else heard his closely-guarded secret. Steve looked very uncomfortable to be included in said confession.

 

“You don’t have a problem with this do you?” Natasha said with a frown.

 

“No… no I don’t have a problem with what Clint said. There were fellas during the war that had friends like that. I kept my mouth shut because it really didn’t matter to me. It’s actually nice to see that its more accepted now. Back then, it was a crime and dangerous if anyone found out.” Steve rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "I don't think having feelings for someone is anything to be ashamed of."

 

“Good, because I’d have hated to hurt you if you protested." Natasha said as she continued to lightly stroke Clint’s hair. "Steve, you don’t have to hang around here. I can watch over them both.”

 

“I want to stay. Coulson became a friend to me, and I think he needs us here. I also want him to know I care too.” Steve sat down in one of the plush chairs across from the sofa. He pulled a battered paperback from the back pocket of his jeans and got comfy.

 

Soon, the only noises in the room were the rustle of turning pages and Clint’s muffled snoring. Steve glanced over at the sofa and smiled. Natasha had fallen asleep too which amazed him, frankly. She didn’t seem the type to trust easily, and for Natasha to let her guard down that much gave the super soldier hope that they could one day really pull together again as a team who trusted each other.

 

~*~

 

Tony entered his workshop and stood there in the center of the room. The lights of the city reflected in the huge windows. The dark streaks of rain with the occasional flash of lightning seemed to reflect his mood.

 

Scattered around his sanctum were various versions of his armor in different stages of completion.  You and Butterfingers were quietly at their bot stations ready to be given a task. Dummy, always the problem child, rolled right up to Tony. The bot trailed his maker to the long sofa tucked under the stairs. Tony sank into the soft leather and continued to stare out the expansive windows.

 

“What am I doing?” Tony asked the empty workshop. “I let a fugitive Asgardian god into my house along his with his over-protective brother then proceed to get cozy with said crazy god only to piss off one of the only friends I have. And lets not forget I got poisoned in the process. Shit!” Tony gave a pained smile when he felt Dummy leaning over the back of the couch. The bot rested his claw and sensor array on Tony’s shoulder as a gesture of comfort.

 

The billionaire absently petted his creation and wondered if this is truly where he belonged, away from any potential minefields when interacting with flesh and blood beings. Tony rested his head in his hands.

 

“Fuck, I need a drink.” When he said it, he could practically feel Steve and Bruce’s disapproving stares. It seemed like his conscience, who sounded a lot like Pepper, now had some company.

 

Tony barely spared a glance when Dummy left his side. He thought his mood so morose that it even managed to chase the bot away. He was contemplating breaking open his stash of whiskey when he felt a nudge at his shoulder.

 

He turned, and there was Dummy holding a blender cup. Tony automatically took the container and looked inside. It was his familiar healthy wheatgrass smoothie. Dummy hovered over the back of the sofa and rotated his sensor array chirping anxiously.

 

Tony didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

 

Dummy knew him so well. Tony drank the smoothie and placed the cup on the coffee table. Feeling more centered, he jumped up and looked around.

 

“Okay. Jarvis, bring up the schematics for the articulation seals on the shoulder joints for the Mark XI. There’s still a hydraulic leak.”

 

Tony went over to the suit in question. It lay spread out on one of the tables.

 

“As you wish, sir.”

 

Blue screens flickered to life, and Tony lost himself in his work. At least this way, he would not have to think about what a fucked up mess he’d made of his life.

 

Much later, blow torch in hand, Tony sat at his workbench, goggles covering his eyes, focused on the task in front of him. He steadfastly ignored the tremble in his arms. It had been getting more pronounced over the last few hours.

 

Tony absently wiped at the sweat on his brow. He was determined to get the musculature armature movement simulator functioning properly. He needed this suit battle ready in case things went horribly wrong… which, around him, things tended to do.

 

He’d just put the torch to the back mounted aileron when his vision greyed out. Tony dropped the torch and then flung himself backward when it damned near burned a hole through his leg.

 

He tried to keep his balance but the dizzying headache made that impossible. Tony landed unceremoniously on his ass.

 

“Sir, are you alright," Jarvis asked, who had been monitoring Tony.

 

Tony pulled off goggles the and flung them away. When his vision steadied he reached over and turned off the torch, thankful that his shop floor was tiled with heat resistant granite.

 

"Should I call Dr. Banner?”

 

“Fuck no. I’m fine, I’m fine," Tony growled. It was far from the truth but he would not give in. This was his only outlet, and he’d be damned if any weird Asgardian poison was going to stop him.

 

“Sir, I beg to differ," Jarvis objected. "Your heart rate is up as are your respirations. I’ve also detected your temperature has risen 1.6 degrees. If you do not desist and get some rest, as per the doctor’s orders, I will be forced to contact him.”

 

Dummy, who’d been helping Tony with the repairs, lowered his arm and chirped anxiously.

 

Tony took a deep breath and looked at the time on one of his monitors. Almost 4 a.m.

 

"Shit." He swiped a hand through his hair and used Dummy’s help to stand up. “Okay, I’ll crash on the couch for a while. Shut everything down.”

 

Tony staggered over to the sofa and collapsed face down. He lay there almost too tired to think anymore. And isn't that what he wanted in the first place? Dummy pulled a fleecy throw off the back and covered his maker. He stayed nearby in case Tony needed him.

 

Finally exhausted, the billionaire drifted off into an uneasy sleep. Jarvis carefully kept track of his creator’s vital signs, vowing to call for aid if anything changed, whether Tony wanted it or not.

 

~*~

 

Bruce yawned for the fourth time in under a minute. He glanced at his watch and paused in surprise of the hour.

 

He’d been busy but hadn’t realized just how busy. He’d replaced all of the equipment that was ruined by whatever happened when Barton and Coulson “connected.” Steve helped him roll some of the monitors away to replace with other functioning models. The man really was a godsend. It wasn’t often you could count on someone helping out without a single objection. Captain Complaint, Steve was not.

 

Bruce had checked on Barton and provided blankets for him and Natasha to use. Rogers said he didn’t need anything, but Bruce left a spare pillow and blanket for him anyway.

 

Then he went over Coulson’s health records again, this time, with new eyes. He began to recognize the telltale signs of things extraordinary. He was itching to bring these findings up with Director Fury, but for now, he decided to keep this new knowledge close. It could be leverage in the future.

 

With these new matters brought to light, he decided it made no sense that Coulson was still in a coma. No wonder SHIELD physicians were all at a complete loss. They'd gone above and beyond what was morally and ethically right and still, Coulson hadn't responded.

 

So he ditched the high tech almost-magically-alien treatments SHIELD already tried and went back to the basics. If he thought about this situation from a perspective of “cognitive recalibration,” as Natasha put it -- which translated to Barton and Selvig were hit in the head really hard -- then Bruce almost wanted laugh at simplicity of the matter.  The question became how induce unconsciousness a body that was already comatose, and do so without harming Coulson.

 

The agent hadn’t survived this long only to be brained by an Avenger while in the protective custody of Stark’s medical facility.

 

He could defibrillate Phil – stop his heart, then restart it – which technically could recalibrate the mind if it went through a brief state of death. It sounded feasible in practical terms, but would Natasha and Clint go for that, was it even ethical? And if it didn’t work…

 

Well, Bruce could propose it, but they’d all have to be one hundred percent in agreement in or he wouldn’t try.

 

“Jarvis?”

 

“Yes, Dr. Banner.”

 

“How’s Tony doing?”

 

“Sir is his usual self.”

 

“So he’s abusing himself in the forms of sleep depravity, over working, over thinking, and hiding from all forms of healthy coping skills.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

Bruce shook his head in discontent and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I told him I’d check on him.”

 

“My new protocols allow me to grant your request to enter the lab any time you wish to do so.”

 

"Huh. Okay." He got up and started walking towards the elevators. Part of him really wanted to check on the genius, and being granted access to do so at any time was really very kind, kind _and_ trusting.

 

He also wanted to force Tony to lay down somewhere quiet and dark and peaceful and make him sleep for eight hours straight. But Tony wouldn’t go for it. Nor did Bruce really know what to say to him. He’d tried and failed miserably at it a few hours ago.

 

The elevator to the medical wing chimed, and when the doors opened, the night shift personnel entered the floor.

 

Saved by the bell.

 

So Bruce stayed put, asking Jarvis to notify him the minute Tony seemed like he needed help of any kind.

 

He got the staff up to speed on the general situation and then chose a room a couple doors down from Coulson’s to rest for the night. He asked Steve to get some shut eye too. Tomorrow would be full of decisions with possible nightmarish results. It wasn't what he’d normally say to comfort someone before they closed their eyes, but he needed – really needed – someone to understand just how bad things were. God knows he knew enough for all of them, and he needed someone to share the burden. It was beginning to suffocate him.

~*~

 

“I called for you thrice,” Loki snarled the moment Thor entered the floor of Tony’s bedroom suite. He pointed a trembling finger accusingly at him. “Did that oxymoron of artificial intelligence not tell you so? You cannot replace the excellence of a servant with technology,” he lectured, wringing his hands. “And I can’t pluck out it’s tongue when it fails to obey me.”

 

Even across the wide expanse of the room, Thor could see Loki was panicked. His eyes were wide and wild, his face pale and still so very gaunt. Loki looked haunted. Haunted and crazed. Just as Barton appeared earlier.

 

“I heard him not, brother,” Thor pacified. “There was much turmoil in the healing quarters. Do you not remember why I left you here alone?”

 

“I _needed_ you _here_ ,” Loki snarled in reply, body leaning forward, fists balled at his sides. "Does that matter not to you?"

 

To Thor, he appeared almost childlike and ill: barely controlled, frightened, and so very physically brittle, as if he’d shatter into a thousand pieces of black and green glass at any moment. "You do matter, Loki."

 

“I assume they think I’m to blame for this latest catastrophe?”

 

“No. They do not blame you," he reassured. "Barton told us much of what happened when you were both being manipulated by the Tesseract and Thanos.”

 

“I told you,” Loki shouted, covering his ears and shutting his eyes. “Don’t speak his name!”

 

“Brother, please calm down.” There was no doubt that what happened to Barton also happened to Loki. But no one had been here to pull Loki back from that desolate azure plane the archer had described. "No one here will hurt you.

 

“You don’t know that,” Loki stated. He spoke slowly at first, but then his words began to tumble and stutter out of his mouth like an immense and uncontainable waterfall.  “Of course they’d blame me. According to them, I’m the source of every calamity. Everything I touch turns to ruin. I am the nightmare that stalks their dreams. I am the shadows that haunt their every corner. They’d never trust me or… or… or ask my counsel. I am worthless to them. And to you. Why did you even bring me here,” he asked, swaying on unsteady feet. “You should’ve just left me in the Hall of Silence in Asgard to rot as a useless, helpless, and unworthy--”

 

“Stop these lies!” Thor bellowed, interrupting the tirade. “Who has spoken over you this way while I left you alone? Who has made you believe these things?”

 

Loki retreated from a swiftly advancing Thor until his back slammed against the wall behind him. Thor reached out and the younger prince recoiled, turned inward, as if preparing to be beaten.

 

“Loki,” Thor whispered, pained at his brother’s actions.  He turned his brother’s face towards his own with both hands. “You must see through this illusion that veils the truth from your eyes. You are safe here, in Tony Stark’s Tower. He is the insane Midgardian who pines for you already. Remember him?”

 

Loki shivered, eyes still pinched tightly shut.

 

“Brother, I will allow no harm to befall you again from the Tesseract. Already we are making plans to free Agent Coulson of it’s connection and sever its ties to you and to Barton as well.”

 

He touched their foreheads together, hearing the hitch in his brother’s breath, feeling the tremble in Loki's bones. “You have never feared me. Not once do I remember you withdrawing from me. Do you not recall how we nearly broke our skulls in half when we were children? Neither of us would yield when Volstagg said you were more hard headed and fearless than I. We had matching scars for years…”

 

Loki fought the tremors that wracked his body. He had no pride left to save and no voice left to protest so he indulged in the protection Thor provided at that moment. His only response was to grab onto Thor’s arms with both hands and hold on tightly.

 

He was so tired of being scared. He had no home to run to  now, and he would have done so, if he could. He would have run back to Frigga, begging for forgiveness, begging to be imprisoned even, if it meant escape from the cruelty and brutality of Thanos and the Chitauri General.

 

But somehow, through the memories that seemed as real as breath and light and air, Thor was getting through to him.

 

He remembered being a child, running full speed at Thor, head jutted forward like a bilgesnipe prepared to ram it’s way through its opponent. He’d woken up blinking at the sparkling sun. He vaguely remembered Volstagg running about, frantic like a wet nurse who’d dropped a baby on its head.

 

“Someone should explain to Odin that both his princes are idiots,” Hogun deadpanned, peering down at little Loki.

 

“Nice scar,” Fandral would later compliment. “Matches your idiot brother’s perfectly.”

 

Frigga had banned them from sparring with the Warriors Three for nearly full cycle of seasons after that.

 

“Idiots' scars,” Loki now repeated, the sound barely audible in Stark's bedroom suite. He was cognizant of his surroundings once more, here in Manhattan in this odd tower of metal and technology on Midgard.

 

“Come,” Thor said, smiling softly. “You are exhausted again and need to rest. I’ll stay with you.”

 

And Thor did, and if Loki was plastered to his side under the thick bedding, he didn’t comment or complain. They hadn’t shared a pillow since they were a century old and snuck into each others rooms, barely tall enough to crawl into their princely beds. Thor didn't mind it. He hated that it was fear that brought them so close again, but he couldn’t deny his contentment at gaining Loki’s trust again, even if it stemmed from a yearning for protection.

 

Tonight, Thor felt like Loki's big brother again.

  
Tomorrow, he would find a way to put this Tower at ease.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, for the kudos, and for the lovely comments. They are gleefully appreciated.

A loud clatter abruptly woke Steve from a sound sleep. He tried to launch himself from the chair he fell asleep in but the blanket tangled around his legs. Barely catching his balance, he extricated himself and looked wildly around Coulson’s hospital room.

 

A thump from nearby had him glancing towards the sofa. Clint lay on the floor blinking at the ceiling. Natasha stood nearby a knife in each hand, ready for an attack. Apparently, the archer had been rolled off the couch at his partner’s hasty exit.

 

Steve and Natasha quickly spotted the reason for their abrupt wake up call: The male nurse from yesterday, who, despite embarrassing himself, stood his ground in the face of the Hulk, had now dropped what appeared to be a tray of supplies. The man was apparently back on shift and ready to do his job, or trying to.

 

Steve breathed a sigh of relief that there was no real threat. Natasha took a little longer to calm down. She slowly re-sheathed her knives and went to check on Clint, not giving the nurse a second glance. It seemed that once she labeled someone a non-threat, they ceased to exist if they’d pissed her off.

 

“You know, Nat, there are better ways to wake me up,” the archer stated. “A kiss might have been nice, but dumping me on my ass, not so much.”

 

“I was poised to save your ass,” she mumbled, offering a hand. “That should be gratitude, not sass, coming out of your mouth.”

 

 

“I'm really sorry the tray slipped,” the nurse said, kneeling to retrieve the items that now lay scattered on the floor. Steve hurried to help. He knelt down too and began gathering the dropped items, which seemed to fluster the young man. “Captain Rogers, I wanted to thank you for yesterday, for not making a big deal about what happened when the Hulk appeared. It’s just that Dr. Banner is so nice and quiet, and the Hulk is so huge and violent. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

 

“It’s not a problem, really. Despite being scared, you held your ground. I’ve seen hardened SHIELD agents run from the Hulk. And by the way, it’s Steve.”

 

The young man hesitated a moment to accept the outstretched hand but then confidently shook it. “I’m Major Robert T. Jordan, Clinical Nurse Specialist from the 15th Medical Support Squadron, United States Air Force Nursing Corps, sir." He then smiled crookedly and was at ease. "But you can call me Bobby. It’s nice to meet you. All of you. I’ve heard a lot of stories about everyone. It’s an honor to be working here.”

 

“I’m sure you earned this job," Steve said. "Stark just doesn’t hire anyone. It’s us who should be thanking you."

 

Steve got up and placed the items he collected back on the tray. "Now why don’t we check on Agent Coulson and you can tell me how he’s doing.”

 

Natasha watched them go to Phil’s bedside. She didn’t miss the way Clint tracked their progress across the room. He had a hungry, longing look on his face, and she knew that he wanted to join them badly. It took her a moment to get Clint’s attention.

 

“How are you feeling this morning?” she asked.

 

“Like my head is stuffed full of cotton. I hate getting drugged. I can still feel it though... reaching out to me. I want to go over there so badly.”

 

Clint turned away from her and before he even realized what he was doing, he had taken two steps towards the bed.

 

Natasha grabbed Clint’s arm. “Okay, that’s it. We’re leaving for a little while. Let’s go get some coffee. There’s a place right around the corner.”

 

Clint tried to pull away as Natasha herded him to the door.

 

“Don’t make me drag you. You know I can do it.” Natasha’s grip on the archer’s arm tightened.

 

“Alright, alright, I’m going. I know, I _need_ to get out of here for a few minutes. It’s just hard to make my feet move in that direction.” Clint was grateful for Natasha’s firm grip pulling him along. Maybe some good old fashioned caffeine would chase away the cobwebs.

 

~*~

 

Bruce was awakened by the clanging of a tray hitting the floor.

 

His first thought was that he'd done it himself. It wasn't the first time he'd fallen asleep in a lab. He opened his eyes and remembered where he was and the personnel that reclaimed the medical wing last night. The Other Guy was content, so the noise must have been just a normal human mistake. No one had threatened. No one had keeled over from an arrow to the throat by Barton. Jarvis would've alerted Bruce, and of course Tony, for that matter, if Clint had somehow gotten past Captain America to get to Coulson. So he should relax.

 

Still, he had to ask. "Jarvis? How's everyone doing?"

 

"Very well, Dr. Banner. The staff in the med bay is making friends by practicing the startle effect."

 

The ghost of a smile curved Bruce's mouth. Of course Tony Stark would give his premier AI a very sharp sense of humor. "Thor and Loki?"

 

"Curled together, slumbering deeply like toddlers in a crib."

 

Bruce chuckled out loud. "And Agent Coulson?"

 

"No change."

 

"Tony?"

 

"Sir's work, eating, and sleeping patterns are normal."

 

"Acting like a superhuman even though he is a still a mortal being,” Bruce supplied.

 

"Precisely."

 

"You make an excellent assistant, Jarvis, and an even better spy."

 

"So I have been told."

 

Bruce rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and trudged into the accompanying bathroom to find his shower and shaving kit essentials. "Is Tony showing any symptoms of dizziness, fatigue, or nausea?"

 

"I believe those may be ongoing issues, yes."

 

"Okay. You've got to tell me these things before they get out of hand." Bruce put the toothbrush in his mouth and waited for a reply. He finished and swished with mouthwash. "Jarvis? I'm just concerned for his health."

 

"My protocols concerning sir's privacy versus his physical, mental, and emotional welfare were rewritten by Colonel James Rhodes following sir's palladium poisoning. He is my point of contact in those regards."

 

Bruce thought about that for some time then repeated: "Protocols… rewritten. Huh."

 

He nodded slowly as he thought that one over once more. Bruce turned and leaned his back against the sink, not once questioning the sanity of his conversation with an AI in the bathroom of a hospital room.

 

"So you're saying the guy inside the War Machine rewrote your code to become the sole focal point of information regarding Tony Stark's welfare? I didn't know they taught advanced programming and scripting for artificial intelligence in Colonel Rhodes' area of the Air Force."

 

"Perhaps I should have said that the colonel and I discussed the merits of choosing to override my code only when it is most imperative to sir's welfare."

 

"I think I might like this Rhodes guy," Bruce said with a chuckle.

 

He had a knee-jerk dislike every jarhead, dogface, and cadidiot since things went bad with General Ross. But he had to admit that there must be something very different, very honorable and trustworthy, about Colonel Rhodes for Tony to trust him with the tech and the military might contained in the War Machine suit. It was a walking, talking, flying armory that could level a city and destroy thousands of lives. You didn't supply something like that to just anyone.

 

He'd barely spoken to the colonel when he flew in and joined them for shawarma after the Battle of New York. Bruce was too tired to strike up much of a conversation, but he admitted he was intrigued by Tony's 'best friend.'

 

"So do I have to make my case too for wanting to be aware when Tony needs help?"

 

"I do not believe that will be necessary, doctor. I think you and I already have an understanding."

 

"Excellent," Bruce said, stripping off his clothing after turning on the shower. "Thanks for trusting me Jarvis. Oh and uh, we need to have a conference with everyone about Agent Coulson this morning, as soon as Tony and the others are up and fed. There's no way I'm making any move on Coulson without the entire team in agreement."

 

"Noted."

 

~*~

 

Loki woke tangled in heavy blankets combined with Thor's arms and legs and hair.  He extricated himself as if his life depended of the speed at which he exited the bed. This found him face first on the ground, cheek next to Stark's designer flooring, panting for breath.

 

When Loki was thrice assured by his surroundings that he wasn't being attacked by Cthulhu by command of the Tesseract's minions, he heard noises coming from Thor above him.

 

Loki sat up and noted his brother curled into the fetal position, hands cupping his groin area.

 

Thor eventually spoke, between wheezes and high-pitched noises of misery. "I hope... a hogtoad leviathan... pisses on your face."

 

Clearly offended, Loki said, "Had you not been smothering me, we could've avoided this skirmish altogether. Be glad we still haven't been provided with footwear or you'd likely be a eunuch."

 

"We have brought up several items of clothing for you both," Jarvis supplied. "Your custom-made shoes have arrived as well. You will find them on the butler table in the foyer of the suite."

 

Loki's eyes traveled the ceiling while Jarvis spoke. Then he returned his attention to Thor. "Stark has quite the sentinel in his artificial intelligence, has he not? It shall make it interesting to circumvent its security."

 

"That is quite unlikely."

 

"We shall see," Loki challenged. He then dismissed the AI, stood and stretched his body with arms overhead before padding into the bath chamber for another luxurious hot bath.

 

"Do not disturb me," he said before closing the door. Then it opened again, "Unless you are bringing me breakfast," he added. The door was opened again, "Bring me grapes. Lots of grapes."

 

The sound of bathwater ran heavily and Thor muttered a string of expletives. He waited for the right side of his balls to drop after being, what felt like, kicked up into his lung. Honestly, Loki could be such a bitch.

 

~*~

 

Phil _felt_ Barton leave the room, more than he _heard_ the conversation between the two SHIELD agents.

 

The nearly dormant part of his mind knew it was strategically best to remove Clint from the field because the Tesseract's pull on Barton was immense. It wanted the rogue agent back under its influence, more so than the weakened Loki of Asgard. And it was using Clint's loyalties for him to do it.

 

In the depths of his psyche, Phil wanted to scream. It was becoming nearly impossible to endure this form of existence. Through the Tesseract, he was able to contemplate never-ending scenarios of how to usurp Nick Fury, overthrow the Committee, and take command of SHIELD'S worldwide operations. In doing so, he'd control the United Nations. Coulson could, in essence, run the world.

 

He was clever enough to do it too. The Tesseract could've woken him and allowed him to execute the first of many plans he'd devised, but it hadn’t. The issue was that _his heart didn't desire it_.  Coulson lacked the supremacy inherent to Loki of Asgard. He didn’t have the damaged and malleable soul of Clint Barton, either.

 

Coulson didn't have to rule through force to prove his worth. No, the sole purpose of Phil Coulson was to serve and protect.

 

He never confused power with self-worth or personal value. What Phil did with SHIELD was more than enough to garner a deep and healthy sense of self-respect. He desired no accolades or titles, no subjects swearing fealty. Give him a couple of skilled peers and a mission to eliminate a malicious target, and Phil was completely content.

 

Even so, the Tesseract kept him under. All he could do was cling to the belief that Barton would be the one to head his rescue mission. And now that they were so very close, Phil wanted to weep with the sense of relief that came with reconnecting to his favorite agent and begin his extraction from this nightmare.

 

But then Barton left and he wanted to cry out. He could try, but likely, the only one who would hear him would be Loki, and contact with Loki was the last thing Phil wanted.

 

~*~

 

Steve watched the assassins leave before he went over to the bed where Coulson lay. Nervously, he saw the monitors spiking.

 

“Bobby, is everything alright?” Steve tried to keep the panic out of his voice. Maybe that episode with Clint changed something.

 

The nurse looked up from his position at the agent’s side. “Yes, they do that occasionally, although I’ve not seen such a reaction in a while. Agent Coulson’s vitals are still within the normal ranges though. Look, why don’t you go and get something to eat. He’s in good hands. We’re waiting on Dr. Banner before we proceed.”

 

“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that.” Steve, not knowing what else to do, left for the kitchen. He prepared himself some eggs, bacon and toast then shoveled it all in with the ingrained haste of a soldier.

 

He wanted to get back to the med bay as soon as possible.

 

~*~

 

Tony’s nose twitched, waking him from a sound sleep. He blinked squinted eyes at the brightness in the room. The floor to ceiling windows were great, and the view was amazing, but not at fuck-its-too-early-in-the-morning o’clock.

 

“Jarvis, dim the room.”

 

“Very well, sir. Dr. Banner was concerned for your well being. It would be amiss to not inform him of your status."

 

“Yeah, yeah. Something tells me I now have one too many mother hens. You find an ally, J?”

 

“I do not know to what you refer,” the AI replied haughtily.

 

“Right, like I believe that. Go ahead and tell Bruce I’m still alive.”

 

What originally woke the billionaire finally registered: a tantalizing aroma that seemed to be coming from behind the sofa. He sat up and looked behind him. Dummy’s arm maneuvered over the back. In his claw was a steaming mug of coffee.

 

“You are definitely in my will, Dummy. In fact, fuck it. You can have it all. I’ll call the lawyers right after my liquid breakfast. Now gimme.”

 

Tony reached out and plucked the cup from his bot’s grasp. He made appreciative noises as he drained the mug. Despite all Dummy’s flaws, there were two things he did really well, most of the time: make the liquid gold clutched in his greedy hands and concoct Tony’s favorite smoothies. If the helper bot got distracted, disastrous things had been known to happen.

 

He ran a hand through his hair and frowned. He needed a shower rather desperately. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator, Tony wandered up to his suite. The door opened into his rooms at his presence in the foyer. It was securely coded to restrict access to anyone but himself, since it led directly to his workshop.

 

Tony walked through his sitting room and into the bedroom where he was stopped by the sight. He stared for a moment at Thor, who lay on the bed making some very undignified noises. His position on the mattress, and the fact that the God of Thunder was cupping a vulnerable part of his anatomy, led Tony to believe he’d suffered a humiliating mishap.

 

Loki was also nowhere in evidence. Perhaps the brothers had a disagreement?

 

“Thor, buddy,” Tony tried for an innocently-concerned tone but failed miserably. “You need some ice for that?”

 

"It is like... having a viper... in bed with you," Thor said haltingly, sitting up with care to face the Midgardian. "You never know if he will strike just because he can or if he will leave you be. Remember that, Stark."

 

“Advice noted, big guy."

 

Once he felt able, Thor placed his bare feet on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. "You did not come to bed last night. Or did we rudely displace you into another suite in your tower?"

 

"Oh I worked for a while and then got bullied into getting some sleep on the sofa in my workshop. I gather our resident diva is in the bath? I was hoping for a shower myself.”

 

Tony walked into his closet, although Pepper called it a dressing room. The space certainly was big enough. He didn’t have the heart to even open the door to the matching space adjacent to his. He’d be greeted by empty racks and shelves, a glaring reminder that Tony Stark was not relationship material.

 

Tony gathered his preferred outfit. Well worn jeans, a cream colored Henley, and this time, a black Pink Floyd t-shirt. He went back out to the bedroom and knocked on the bathroom door.

 

“You planning on lounging in there all day, princess, or can I use my own shower?”

 

Tony was sorely tempted to just walk in, but he didn’t think Thor would appreciate him ogling his brother.

 

Thor's laugh was a mix of grimace and warning. "That word, _princess_ ," he mentioned, limping over to the door, "is a trigger for trouble. Fair warning."

 

He knocked on the door impatiently. "Loki, we're coming in."

 

Thor rattled the door knob and found it locked. He sighed heavily, shoulders drooping. He scratched the back of his head, opened his mouth then closed it. "He is offended. Trigger word," he said, head bouncing back and forth, like _I know, I know...._

 

Tony shook his head. And they called _him_ childish. “Well that’s too damn bad that I offended his highness and his tender sensibilities. Jarvis, if you would be so kind as to unlock the freaking door to my own bathroom, please?”

 

Tony grinned when he heard the electronic ‘click’. He really wanted to just wallow under an insanely hot shower then drink about a gallon of coffee. Maybe that would help his mood and the persistent headache. “After you.”

 

Tony really didn’t mind using Thor as a shield, he really didn’t.

 

The wall of water that hit Thor was hot and sudsy. It smacked him in the face and parted around him in droplets of soapy liquid. At least half of it hit Tony square in the chest. The rest splashed to the floor and ran in all directions.

 

Tony gaped when he was drenched with bathwater. “What are you five years old or something? I must be racking up major good karma, because who puts up with this shit, seriously?”

 

Thor raised a brow in challenge.

 

Loki sat in the bathtub, half the water now gone, revealing his chest, arms, and the tops of his knees. He was studying his hand and looked moderately impressed.

 

"Huh. My magic is returning rather quickly," he said to himself, sounding rather pleased. Then he looked at the sopping wet subjects in the doorway and smiled broadly. "Just a bit of fun."

 

Thor lunged, slipped, and flailed his hands wildly to regain his balance. Loki's face fell and he sprung from the bath, suds sliding down his lean body. The bruises were fading very quickly, but they were sickly purple under the white soapy trails.

 

The trickster darted through the open-ended shower. The brothers paused - one on each side of the glass, and Loki grinned again. Apparently, this was a past time.

 

"Pick a side, Stark," Loki stated. "Choose your alliance well. Block the opponent the moment one of us makes our move."

 

It took a moment for Tony to get his brain to reboot.

 

At the sight of the very toned, very nude, suds-covered God of Chaos, his clothing slipped out of his hands to lie on the wet floor. Tony licked his lips and tried not to say anything that would make Thor send him flying through a wall, because only x-rated thoughts were coming to mind.

 

“Um, well, since I am very heavily into self preservation, I’d have to choose the side of tall, dark, and delicious.” Okay. Tony really needed to have a talk with his inner pervert. He didn’t mean for that last bit to be said aloud. With Thor’s growl of protest, Tony added: “Or I could just enjoy looking at the floor. Yup. Eyes on the floor.”

 

But then Tony peeked.

 

"Ha!" With a shit-eating grin, Loki moved like lightning. Thor followed but had to stop so he didn't plow right through Tony. His arms were long though, and he got a handful of long black hair before Loki could escape him entirely.

 

A litany of curses fell from Loki's mouth. He had to right himself, and in doing so, grabbed onto Tony, his hips in particular. Quick thinking, he wrapped his arms tightly around the Midgardian. Loki's body was pressed firmly against the back of Stark from knees to shoulders, his breath in Stark's ear when he spoke to Thor. "I have a hostage, brother. Release me, else I will be forced to tarnish his virtue."

 

"Oh, stop this now, Loki. You are behaving like a child. Again." Thor demanded, as a parent would of an insolent brat. He released the hair in between his fingers. He turned his back on the both of them in irritation, pulled his hair back in a ponytail, and wrung the moisture from it.

 

Loki chuckled, gave the shell of Tony's ear a lick, and then released him. "I won't forget this, Stark. I expect your allegiance in all future quarrels with my brother."

 

Okay. Tony tried not to dwell on the fact that he had been sandwiched between two prime examples of Asgardian royalty, with the added bonus of one of them pressed naked and wet against his back. He was afraid of moving too much and making his developing hard on blatantly obvious.

 

The billionaire breathed a sigh of relief when Thor walked by both of them and out of the bathroom.

 

“So," he finally said to Loki. "Are you going to hang around and leer at me, or am I taking my shower in peace?”

 

He really did wonder if his mouth was connected to his brain at all. But fuck... Loki’s breath in his ear and that little lick had been a big turn on. Genius? No, not when his dick was in charge.

 

Loki's grin mellowed a bit. He cocked his head to the side, assessing Tony. His eyes wandered down to the obvious ridge in the man’s pants and then darted back to Stark's brown eyes.

 

"I do not think it is peace you want." Loki began advancing on Stark like a predator towards prey. That is, until Thor's bellow nearly shook the paint off the wall.

 

"Loki! You will _not--_ "

 

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!" Loki snarled in reply, and the all the playful warmth left the room. He left too when Thor ushered his brother out with arms spread wide, as if corralling cattle or sheep away fro Tony. Loki was deeply offended again. The smiling trickster was gone and the princely brat was firmly back in place.

 

Thor reached back into the bath chamber for the door knob. "My apologies," he simply said and pulled the door closed quietly.

 

And that was the end of it.

 

Tony sagged against the bathroom wall and ran the heel of his hand over the bulge in the front of his jeans. Damn, he was too old for these kinds of games. Thor, the Mighty Cockblocker, indeed.

 

Was it wise to start anything with Loki? Fuck no! But it might prove to be one hell of a wild ride. As reluctant as Tony was to admit it, there were far more important things that they needed to be thinking about.

 

Tony stripped off his wet clothes, grabbed the now soaking ones he dropped on the floor, and threw them all in the hamper. He turned on the shower and stepped into the heat. As he washed, Tony tried to forget the last few minutes and the effect it had on his libido. There was no way in hell he was jerking off with Thor in the next room.

 

“Jarvis, have an insane amount of food delivered to my suite for Thor and Loki. I’ll just be in here a while.” Tony groaned as the image of a very naked Loki popped back into his head.

 

“Very well, sir, and I informed Dr. Banner you are awake and will join him shortly.”

 

“Thanks, Jarvis.” Tony sighed and tried to get his traitorous body back under control.

 

The problem with being a genius was he had a very vivid imagination. That meant his good intentions flew merrily out the window as the feeling of Loki’s lips on his ear made him shiver. He’d meet Bruce later, but right now, he had something else to take care of first.

 

"You're too damn eager," he said to his throbbing cock.

 

~*~

 

Natasha watched with fascination as Clint added his twelfth packet of sugar to his large cup of coffee. They sat in a nearby Starbuck’s at a corner table as the morning crowd ebbed and flowed around them. Leave it to this chain to be one of the first to bounce back after the attack.

 

Clint absently took a sip of the overly sweet beverage then proceeded to pick apart his blueberry muffin, tearing the helpless pastry into smaller and smaller chunks. He never took his eyes off the Stark building that loomed just outside the windows.

 

The Black Widow sighed and grabbed his hand. “Clint, stop. I think its dead.”

 

“Huh? What?” The archer looked down at his plate. “Oh, I guess I’m just not hungry.”

 

“Okay then. Since this has proved to be pretty pointless, we can head back. Can you keep it together,” Natasha asked, getting to her feet.

 

“Yeah. I just need to be there. I’m sorry, Nat.” Clint followed the assassin, grateful that no one recognized them in their street clothes.

 

“No apologies. Just promise me not to do anything stupid.” Natasha linked arms with him as they walked to the tower. "Or I will take you down."

  
They were eager to return to Phil’s room and do anything necessary to make sure Coulson woke up. She knew they both depended on it.


	15. Chapter 15

“Sir, my sensors indicate your breathing is elevated and your heart rate has increased substantially.” 

Jarvis' voice broke into Tony’s guilty afterglow in the shower. He sighed heavily, as could practically feel his AI’s disapproving tone.

“J, what did I say about interrupting private time?” 

“I seem to have misplaced that bit of protocol, sir. Would you like to inform me again?”

Again sarcasm from something he created… Really? Tony didn’t need more mothers. The one that had an unnatural attachment to red, white and blue was enough.

He leaned his head against the shower wall as hot water flowed down his back. He tried to get his breathing under control. Damn Loki for making him feel like a horny teenager, which at his age, was quite a feat. Tony’s head pounded and his muscles trembled.

How does one go from being in a relationship with a perfectly lovely woman, someone he thought he could never live without, to an Asgardian fugitive with questionable motives and morals? It had to be some kind of damned lust spell. That had to be it, because it was certainly not Tony’s judgment. Nope, not that at all. 

Fury told him he had the self-preservation instincts of a lemming. Perhaps he was right.

Tony reluctantly shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel out of the cabinet and dried off slowly. Dark circles under his eyes in the mirror made him look more like the walking dead than a billionaire playboy.

He brushed his teeth and shaved, hoping to cover his fatigue with his devastating good looks. Tony raked his thick, wavy hair back and ignored the few threads of silver. He left and walked into his dressing room shivering a little in the coolness of the space. This time he chose a charcoal grey pair of slacks and a teal cashmere sweater. As he tied his custom black trainers, Jarvis spoke again:

“Sir, Dr. Banner requests your presence in the medical bay. Shall I tell him you are on your way down?”

“Yeah, go ahead. I guess he’s figured out something to help Agent Coulson. I’ll be right there.” 

Tony went down his private stairs into his workshop. He stopped long enough to grab a large mug of coffee and headed to the medical wing. Tony sighed in relief that he’d managed to avoid Loki. He just wasn’t ready to face the object of his shower sexcapades just yet.

~*~

Thor and Loki had dressed quietly, both lost in thought as to things that had transpired overnight, this morning, and what was still to come.

Thor chose another pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt from the items Jarvis had ordered for them and had delivered to Tony Stark's suite. He pulled them off the rack that had transported the clothing to the suite and stepped away to dress in the open, far from shy about displaying his body.

Loki's side of the rolling rack was quite different. His preferences for day wear were represented by what Midgardians called casual business attire. It suited him far better than Thor's plain clothes. Loki wouldn't be caught dead in such unsuitable garments for a prince, but that was Thor, and he had always been barely tolerant of pageantry, unlike Loki.

Of course the blond prince loved his winged helmet. The red mantle was also as recognizable as Loki's green one, so Thor wasn't above elaborate displays of splendor, just apparently not while in Midgard.

"I will go check on Agent Coulson and the others," he said to Loki. "Will you be alright if I go?"

"Of course," Loki scoffed, too embarrassed to even touch on last night's emotional breakdown. A sense of anxiety shot through him but he quelled it by reciting a protection enchantment in his mind.

"Food has been delivered from the local market," Jarvis informed them.

"Very well," Loki acknowledged. He stood after tying his shoes and brushed past Thor at a brisk clip. "Go on," he said to Thor, casually dismissing him.

"I shall return soon, and Loki?" he said, waiting for his brother's pause in the hallway. "We will protect you and the others from the Tesseract. Today we will rid Midgard of its presence."

Loki glanced back at Thor, making eye contact with him. 

"I'll hold you to that," he said before parting ways.

~*~

Bruce stepped into Coulson's room and was kind of shocked to find it empty of friends. He pondered where everyone had gotten off to, but decided it was actually healthy to take breaks from their vigil over the man imprisoned in his own body.

He checked the monitors and saw the record of the periodic spikes and valleys in various readouts. He wanted to tell Coulson that today was the day they'd free him - either by forced death and rebirth, or just death unintended. Either way, the Tesseract had its last morning inside Coulson's body. 

But he held back, because if the Tesseract was listening, it already had enough intel on them and their plans. No need to be blatant about it. 

Bruce still wasn't sure what it was doing to Loki or when the trickster god would appear to try to reconnect with the Tesseract. Bruce didn't need that issue on top of all the others they were facing.

"Jarvis? Can you tell everyone I'm heading into the conference room down the hall and to meet me there? We need to discuss the game plan for today."

"There are several people already on their way to you, doctor. I will let them know where to find you."

"Thanks," he said, choosing a croissant from the box of goodies one of the nurses brought up from the cafe outside. He took several gulps of black coffee and stuffed the pastry in his mouth, half of it sticking out at an odd angle. He grabbed a few files and a laptop and used his hip to push the door to the large conference room open. The lights came on automatically when he entered and the blinds began to rise, revealing an amazing view of Manhattan. "Fanks Darvith" Bruce said, his words distorted through his mouthful.

"Please do not choke on your food, Dr. Banner. It would be quite humiliating to die in the medical ward you're in charge of at the moment."

Bruce nodded, smiled, and set his stuff down on the large circular table top. He chewed and then swallowed his food after removing the other half of croissant from his teeth. "Okay. I'll, uh, just be here waiting."

~*~

Steve finished his breakfast and quickly cleaned up after himself. He knew Tony had staff to keep his suite tidy but he just couldn’t in clear conscience leave a sink full of dirty dishes.

As he was leaving the kitchen area, Jarvis chimed in.

“Captain Rogers, I was to inform you that everyone has been instructed by Dr. Banner to assemble in the conference room on the medical wing.”

“Thank you, Jarvis. I’m on my way,” Steve answered as he stepped into the elevator.

He met Clint and Natasha in the hallway outside the conference room door. The redhead clutched a large coffee in her hands and it looked like she was literally pushing Clint to move forward. The archer kept glancing at the room where Coulson lay.

Steve noted as he entered that Bruce was already standing near a large circular table. He nodded at the doctor and took a seat.

Natasha almost booted Clint in the rear to get him into the room. His focus was completely on Coulson, even though he couldn’t physically see the man. It was as if he was listening to something no one else could hear.

She towed him into the conference room and pushed him down into one of the plush leather chairs. 

“Is Barton alright,” Steve asked, concerned. “Is it like last night?”

“Yeah. It’s like he’s not even here," Natasha answered with a sigh. "He’s been like this since we entered the building, but don’t worry, I’m watching him.” 

"My brother is also not himself," Thor commented, entering the conference room. "We must resolve this issue today else I fear the toll it will take on both Loki and Clint Barton."

They all looked up when Tony strode confidently into the room.

“I know, I know, you were all waiting breathlessly for my arrival. So now that I’m here, let’s get this show on the road. So how do we wake sleeping beauty?” Tony sat and propped his feet up on the table then took a large slurp of his coffee.

“Well,” Bruce began, repositioning his glasses, “as you all remember, the solution to exorcising the mind and body from the Tesseract seems to be a traumatic brain injury. Since we don’t want to cause Agent Coulson any more trauma than he’s already endured, we obviously don’t have the option of simply bashing his head against a wall, Tony's floor, or a fist,” he said to Natasha, “or any kind of hard surface to accomplish that. And any doctor in their right mind would never suggest damaging a person’s brain if there is any hope if needing it in the future. I’m sure you’ll all agree,” he said sarcastically, “that Agent Coulson’s brain is quite extraordinary, else he wouldn’t be in his position at SHIELD.”

Bruce took a deep breath and let it out slowly, poignantly looking at Tony, Steve and Natasha. “Now hear me out before you respond: What we can do, with relative professional confidence, is cause a pulseless state of his heart. This "sudden death" would hopefully sever the connection to the Tesseract under a reasonably controlled environment. Then we would restart his heart when he’s free from its control. This is all assuming he has no other medical issues to impede this process, which I'm convinced are not there. Coulson is definitely a special case. But there are potential complications with this proposal, even death, and I wouldn’t proceed without everyone’s complete agreement on going forward with this plan.”

Bruce’s words seemed to shake Clint out of his fugue state. The archer surged to his feet angrily. “Stop his heart? What the hell. Hasn’t he been through enough? Isn’t there something else you can try?”

Clint started to stalk towards Bruce when Natasha’s hand clamped down onto the archer’s arm. He stopped to glare at his partner and hissed at the pain of her fingers biting into his skin.

“Sit down, Clint.” Natasha yanked and the archer stumbled. One glare from her and he dropped heavily back down into his chair. “I’m sure Bruce knows what he’s talking about, and as he said, we all have a say in this. But… this might be the only way.” 

“Is it the only solution left?” Steve asked.

“SHIELD’S tried things that I’d never venture into, inhumane things, and none of it worked. Modern medicine, advanced science… crazy shit SHIELD has pulled out of their asses…” He cleared his throat and slid his hands into his pockets. “It is my opinion that we’ve run out of options. The simplest method has proven its effectiveness in Barton and Selvig. Rebooting the conscious mind can sever the tie. But again, there are grim risks to trying this method.”

“Okay. If this is the only way, I trust you, doctor. No one wants Coulson to suffer any more.” Steve laid a reassuring hand on Clint’s shoulder. They’d all have to watch him carefully during this procedure.

Tony finished his coffee and set the mug aside. Fuck. What Bruce proposed to do was risky as hell. “Well, just make sure that you know what you’re doing, Bruce. Do you have any idea what an accidental death would do to my insurance premiums?”

“Tony!” Steve yelled.

Natasha had to almost sit on Clint to keep him from going for Stark. It was a superhuman effort because she wanted nothing more than to plant her fist in his face. She quietly whispered in her partner’s ear until he calmed down.

"Really, Tony?" Bruce asked before face-palming.

"What you are proposing will work," Thor said confidently. When everyone looked at him questioningly, he continued. "I have seen my brother do something similar with his magic. He can possess a being by stopping their heart first so his consciousness can enter. He exits the same way."

Steve frowned at Thor’s statement, both confused and horrified. “I could’ve lived my entire life without knowing that was even a possibility.”

“Yeah, alright. Moving on from body-snatching.” Tony hoped for Loki’s sake that what Bruce was proposing worked. He didn’t want to mediate an all out war.

“When?” Clint asked. His grip on Natasha was rather desperate. The archer felt like he was being pulled to too many directions at once. He wanted to go to Phil but could sense the inherent danger in doing that. The hold the Tesseract had on his handler and on him still was too strong. It made him want to give in, to just quit fighting, and that’s the last thing he wanted to do. “When are you going to do this?”

"Not until you agree. I mean, does anyone else have an idea," Bruce asked, sincerely. "I've been desperately trying to come up with a better solution, but I've got nothing else to offer. This should be pretty straightforward and relatively simple. All the equipment is here to ensure his survival, barring any unforeseen complications, and it beats brain trauma any day.”

Everyone looked at Clint waiting for an answer. The archer swallowed audibly and then finally answered: "Just get this over with. Please.”

~*~

“Well fuck me,” Bruce shouted in abject frustration. He dropped the defibrillator paddles for the third time onto the floor and shook out his sore hands. 

“Dr. Banner,” Bobby said, “you can’t keep doing that. It’s going to kill you.”

“Every time I touch the damn things, I’m electrocuted,” he explained. The machine next to him sparked and shorted out. “Case in point,” he stated, resting his hands on his hips. “It’s not going to kill me. The Other Guy can handle it. It’s just really pissing me off.” 

He looked at Clint, getting all the confirmation he needed in the man’s appearance and aggressive posture. This was the Tesseract’s way of keeping Coulson under its control. It was rejecting their plans to exorcise it from the agent’s body with intrepid proficiency. 

And more, Clint’s eyes were beginning to take on the tell-tale Tesseract blue glow they all knew and feared. He was about to become its soldier again.

“Look, this is not going to happen,” Bruce admitted, wiping the sweat from his upper lip. He told the Bobby to step away from the equipment for his own safety. “If it is electrical, the Tesseract owns it. Being that this Tower has a never-ending supply of it, I’m not sure what to do, aside from putting all this equipment on a separate generator, which would be your specialty,” he said to Tony. “But we’d still have to catch the Tesseract off guard, and unfortunately, I think it is getting its hold on Clint again. We’re about to have far more trouble than expected if we don't get that thing out of Coulson and out of this building.”

Steve knew he was leaving bruises on Clint’s shoulders, but after Bruce’s first attempt with the defibrillator, the archer broke away from Natasha and lunged towards Phil’s bed. It had taken them both to restrain Clint. The archer was literally growling.

The Captain was about to drag Clint bodily from the room when, after the third failed attempt, Clint sagged to the floor gasping for air.

“Nat, please. Knock me the fuck out," Clint plead through gritted teeth. "I can feel it crawling through me. It wants me to stop you.” 

Natasha really didn’t want to hit her partner again. 

“Bruce, give him something strong. We can’t keep a hold of him much longer.” She could feel the archer’s muscles coiling for another attempt to free himself.

Tony thought frantically about what Bruce had asked. He had an idea, one that would most likely work. He had to get to his workshop. 

“Bruce I think I got this, but I need to ask Loki about it first. Can you control things here for a few minutes?”

'Yeah, as long as Cap and Thor can help me with Clint," Bruce confirmed. "I can try to weaken him so he's not so susceptible to its influence. Coulson is hardly a threat, as long as he doesn't wake up and go batshit crazy on us." Bruce's face was far from confident, but he nodded in the direction of the doorway. "We'll be okay. Just remember who you're going to for help. Remind Loki of the leverage you hold over him."

Thor frowned. "Loki will help you if you ask it of him. Though I do fear what will come of his encounter with the Tesseract again, so be wary, Stark. He may already be nervous and frightened, as he was last night. Call for me if you have need."

“No worries, I can do this. And trust me, Thor, if Loki is being difficult, you’ll be the first person I call.” 

Tony gave a reassuring grin as he got up. The genius needed some knowledgeable input before he started to tinker. Tony left the medical wing and headed up to his suite. He hoped Loki was coherent enough to give him what he needed.

Expecting it, Steve was ready when Clint tried to fling himself away from their grasp. The archer was surprisingly hard to hold onto without hurting him. Steve noted with some trepidation that Clint’s eyes were now shining with an ethereal glow.

“Forgive me,” Steve asked sadly as his forearm came up under Clint’s chin. The archer struggled as the super soldier applied pressure and cut off Clint’s air supply.

It wasn’t long before Clint sagged against Steve and he lowered him gently to the floor.

Natasha knelt next to Clint, tears shining in her eyes. It was so unfair of him to be tortured like this over and over. She felt completely helpless. This was a force that she had no idea how to fight.

“You heard him," Natasha repeated as she looked beseechingly at Bruce. "Give him something to keep him under. If he wakes up, we won’t be able to control him.” 

"Bobby," Bruce said, "I want to start him on an IV drip of Versed in a bag of normal saline. Can you get the line and start that for me? I'll do the dosing."

"Yes, sir." The young nurse nodded and left the room to retrieve the supplies needed.

"I suppose we can move him to the couch," Bruce suggested. "Not sure how smart it is to keep him here in the same room with the Tesseract's influence, but I'm guessing you don't want to be split up," he said to Natasha.

“Don’t take him out of the room.” Natasha felt at her wits end. She was close to losing it and needed both Barton and Coulson close by. She briefly touched her forehead to Clint’s and whispered a soft phrase in Russian.

“Steve, can you get him over to the couch?” 

“Yeah.” Steve did as Natasha asked. He didn’t miss how on edge the SHIELD agent had become. He knew she was emotionally attached to her fellow agents, and he ached for her despair. She followed right behind him as he arranged Barton in a comfortable position and stepped back. Steve then risked placing his arm around Natasha’s slim shoulders. She almost vibrated with tension.

Natasha almost shoved Roger’s arm off of her on instinct. But truth be told, she felt lost and needed the comfort. She allowed herself to relax a little and leaned into his side, taking the solace offered. They both watched as Clint was taken care of.

Bobby started the IV in Clint's arm and hung the saline bag from a metal pole that had a device attached to titrate the flow of medicine and nutrients. He moved aside when Dr. Banner came back into the room and attached another tube with a dose of sedatives to the saline bag and plugged that into the main line.

"This should keep him under," he explained. "He'd have to be full of super serum to get around this dose, but he's safe, don't worry," he reassured Natasha. "In fact, he'll probably wake up a few minutes after we stop the Versed. We can pull him back out anytime you want. Hopefully, after the remnants of the Tesseract are gone."

Bobby laid a warm blanket on top of Clint and stepped back again, still marveling at the people in this room and how he was a part of something significant going on behind closed doors. He felt both lucky and terrified.

~*~

Tony hesitated when he got to the entrance to his suite. “Jarvis, what is Loki doing right now? I need to talk to him and really don’t want to get turned into a frog or something.”

"I am not certain, sir. He sits on the couch by the window some of the time. Other times, well, perhaps he is contemplating jumping out of it. Maybe he's just interested in the street below? I would approach with caution."

“Gotcha, approach with extreme caution,” Tony replied as he slowly entered the suite.

Loki was right where Jarvis indicated, staring out the window at the bustle below. The god’s shoulders were hunched a bit, he was breathing hard, and his hand was clenched in a tight fist against the glass.

“Loki? You probably already know that Bruce’s attempts were a spectacular failure. Judging by Clint’s reactions, you’re probably not doing much better. But yeah, we need your help, and I have an idea.” 

Tony walked into the center of the room and stopped in case Loki decided to lash out. What the hell was safe minimal distance anyway?

Loki turned his head at the sound of Stark's voice but he didn't move otherwise. He listened, his eyes wandering about the room then back to the view outside.

They told him when he'd attempted to take over Midgard that it didn't matter where he ran or how far, they would always find him if he failed. And now, he was convinced they had returned for him. Soon the pain would start again. The options were kill or be killed, and even if he did kill, he would still be dealt unimaginable pain of punishment for his failures.

Then Stark was there. Of all the people in the building to find Loki at that moment, this was the man who had beaten his captors. Stark had single-handedly fought back the nightmares that threatened his psyche. He’d decimated their Chitauri soldiers on their mother ship and had given Thanos reason to pause.

He was only a Midgardian, one man, and with so little care for himself. But there was something unique about Anthony Stark. Loki just couldn't put a label on it. And they hated him… oh, they hated this man.

He winced and rested his forehead against the cool glass. There were so many voices in his head. Some were telling him to jump, others to fight, and then there was the command to strike at Stark and rip out what was left of his beating heart.

There were two paths laid before him: To kill the Midgardian and follow the path back into death and revenge or align himself with that same man and fight against what terrorized Loki the most.

"Stark," Loki finally said. It sounded like a prayer, even to Loki's ears. How could he tell this man that the lines between reality and memory blurred into a sheet of cold fear which blinded him? Would the simple Midgardian ever begin to understand?

Loki struck the glass with his fist and it cracked into a spider web under the weight of the force. 

"What do you want from me?" Loki asked, his voice cracking with desperation.

If what Tony was told was true, the Tesseract was trying to worm its way back into Loki’s psyche as well. The billionaire could see the tension in the god’s body. The strain he was under must have been terrible.

Someone once gave Tony a second chance to make a difference and a different path to follow. Perhaps this was Loki’s moment. Thor could mouth platitudes and declarations of love between family to Loki until the world ended, but still Loki doubted. There was too much history between the brothers and not enough respect.

Maybe it would take someone else to precipitate that change. Someone who’d been wronged and could forgive.

Slowly, Tony approached, taking care to not make any sudden movements. He took a deep breath and carefully laid his hand on Loki’s shoulder. Tony sighed in relief when the Asgardian merely tensed his muscles and didn’t fling him out the window... again.

“Loki?” Tony said quietly. Clint had so many people that loved and cared for him, friends who would make sure the archer got through this ordeal, but who did Loki have? Thor was a given, but was there anyone else? Certainly no one was here right now. Just him.

Tony knew what it was like to be alone, sunk in the depths of despair, wanting to reach out but not knowing how. “Turn around and look at me.”

"Don't," Loki began, shrugging off Stark's hand. He moved away quickly, avoidance and distance highly sought. "Don't pretend to understand me."

“Yeah, except that ‘wound and retreat’ is a tactic I am very familiar with,” Tony admitted. He could not help but wonder if Pepper had persisted to see through his own carefully crafted facade would they have managed to stay together. “So as a master at pushing people away, I am not about to have it done to me.”

Mindful of his mortality, Tony approached Loki again. “And I do understand. I know what it’s like to be alone, to make bad choices and hurt the people you care about.”

This time, Tony cornered Loki and stepped up close enough to touch. “But you have to let someone in. You can’t keep this all bottled up inside. It will destroy you, make you do things you’re ashamed of. Someone once gave me a second chance. Maybe this is yours? Don’t let the Tesseract rule you." 

Tony looked right into those tormented green eyes. "You claim to be a god? Start acting like one.”

Loki was backed into a corner and Stark had called him out on his fear: You claim to be a god. Start acting like one.

He felt pure rage, because all he heard was Stark calling him a coward. Loki reversed their positions by grabbing the man by his shirt and twisting them around, slamming Stark’s back against the wall. The fingers of one hand curled around the arc reactor while the other pinned the Midgardian by his neck to the marbled wall.

With one pull, he could rip out the device and watch Stark die at his feet. He could show the mortal the kind of power a true god could wield.

“Really?” Tony said, struggling for air, and Loki realized he had spoken his thoughts aloud. 

“This is your play?” Stark continued. “You’re just gonna bend over and allow them fuck you against your will again? Yeah, that’s really showing them, Loki. Way to take back your control.”

“You know nothing about it,” Loki shouted, anger quickly melting into fear.

“Come on,” Stark prompted, his struggles ceasing. “I was almost certain you were strong enough to avoid becoming their puppet again. What the hell are you made of, if not free will and anarchy?”

Loki’s hand flexed, tightening his grip on Stark. It could be over so quickly. It would take nothing to snap his neck and silence this chatter. But what would he be left with? Nothing. He truly would have nothing. And he’d be nothing. That alternative was unbearable.

Here, he had something. He couldn’t even begin to identify it. Shelter, yes. Protection, yes, but what else? Because something about Stark was resonating within Loki. There was truth in the words tumbling from the man’s unruly mouth.

Once, Loki was strong enough to be a king. Turmoil and confusion had drained his confidence as if he’d bled out. He’d forgotten his former self and the greatness that lay dormant within him.

But Stark was right. Perhaps this was his second chance to become greater than before. He was, after all, the God of Chaos, and could recreate himself at will. He was a god, and it was time he started acting like one.

The noise inside his head began to quiet. Loki released the engineer from his choke hold and removed his hand from the arc reactor. But then Loki aggressively pinned Tony’s hands above his head.

Nearly nose to nose, Loki finally spoke. “I will remind you again, I am no one’s puppet, Stark.”

He pressed his body flush to the other and breathed into his ear. “And just so we’re clear, I do the fucking.”

It was pure impulse to grind himself against Stark’s body. It felt so right and so primal and so alive to have a warm, pliable body against him, an advocate, someone who appeared to care.

That was something Loki hadn’t had in so very long…

Then he was kissing Stark before he realized it, teeth pulling on soft lips, tongue licking the inside of the man’s mouth, body hot and heavy against the other.

As surprised as Tony was at this turn of events, he gave back as good as he got. Tony struggled a bit but his hands remained pinned in an iron grip, not hurting, but keeping him right where Loki wanted him. And did Tony want this? Oh god, yes...

Tony groaned as the trickster’s thigh nudged his legs apart. He tipped his head back in surrender as Loki’s lips skimmed his neck. 

Then he groaned again when he remembered why he’d come up here in the first place.

“Wait... wait, we can’t.” Tony moaned as Loki pressed against him right fucking there.

“Coulson. We tried to remove the taint from the damned Tesseract. Didn’t work... have an idea...” Tony gasped out while he still had some control of his brain cells.

He could not help himself really. This felt too damned good. Tony ground himself against Loki as one of the god’s hands skimmed under his sweater seeking the taut skin underneath.

Loki heard words but they didn't make any sense. Hot blood was rushing through his body and his ears were ringing with the sounds of desire. He wanted to bury himself inside this Midgardian now. He bit down on Tony's collar bone. 

Then pain shot through his mind, and with it, the image of tearing Tony's head off his neck.

Loki pushed himself physically away, staggering a bit. His vision turned blue and blurred before returning crisp and clear. 

"What?" Loki finally managed, feeling totally off kilter. And as it was, he could barely stand straight with what his body longed to be doing right at that moment.

He was dizzy and unsteady and there was something he was supposed to be doing, other than molesting Stark. "What did you say?"

Tony was really glad he had the wall to prop him up, because he doubted his legs would support his weight right now. His hand grasped the stinging spot on his neck. While he didn’t mind the bite, the flash of blue in Loki’s eyes that accompanied it nearly stopped his heart.

“Uh, you okay?” he said, motioning towards Loki’s eyes. “You’re going all blue there, like Barton.”

Loki frowned, not following momentarily. “You mean the Tesseract? Yes, yes, I’m… what did you say about it?” 

“Holy hell. Okay. I was saying, ah, Bruce’s plan to medically stop Coulson’s heart failed. The Tesseract is blocking him, shorting out the medical equipment. But I thought... God, give me a minute.” 

Tony staggered over to the sofa and dropped down on it, adjusting himself in the process because damn, this kind of ache was not fun at all.

“We know your staff, no pun intended big guy,” Tony said, eyes dropping down to the front of Loki’s trousers, “had no effect on my arc reactor. So If I can use reactor technology to power the devices we need in Coulson’s room, perhaps they would be enough to drive the foreign energy out of him.”

Tony leaned back and struggled to get himself under control because, fuck, Loki standing there disheveled was making the billionaire contemplate wrapping himself around him, despite the consequences. He could tell Loki needed that kind of connection right now. It just wasn’t the right time… 

Loki rubbed his forehead, feeling far older than he should. His body didn't care about Agent Coulson or Stark's babbling, but his mind, his mind was intrigued. It was one of the reasons Loki tolerated the Midgardian. Stark's level of intelligence and ingenuity were quite remarkable and entertaining.

He took several deep breaths, still not feeling himself but getting closer. And why did the man have to lounge like that, legs spread wide, face flushed and beckoning?

“Would you be able to tell if the Tesseract is gone, if this works," Tony asked.

"Of course I'll be able to tell," Loki answered. "The relief will be tremendous." 

“Okay. You'll have to come with me to the workshop and then down to the medical wing. And stop with the worried face. They all know you’re here. Barton even defended you, said you’d been as trapped as he was. You’ll have to watch out for Widow though. She still wants to stick knives in you.” 

Loki turned towards Stark when he spoke of Barton. The archer was the only other Midgardian, aside from Stark, that he felt any sort of esteem. He had been through a great deal with skilled assassin and would’ve kept him as his second in command, had Midgard been won. 

As for Romanoff, Loki was alarmed but not afraid. Had he been at his full strength, he wouldn't have given her another thought as a substantial threat. Mentally, she was delightful to banter with, but since he wasn’t at his best physically, she’d be a challenge to avoid.

"It will try to take Barton,” he said. “It would have him already. Banner must have done something to obstruct its influence." 

“Drugs.”

Loki nodded, covetously. "Why the same relief was not offered to me will wait. Right now, what you are proposing with the Tesseract and your reactor is dangerous to yourself and to me. But I will admit that I like it."

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. If he was to fight, he wanted to face this with Stark. He'd never admit it out loud, but it wasn't the second or even third time the Midgardian's savvy mind and brazen attitude intrigued him.

“Okay,” Tony said, encouraged that he’d managed to get Loki on board, even after it was nearly the death of him. “Jarvis, status on the med bay?”

“Sir, Agent Barton has been sedated, Agent Coulson’s vitals have spiked again but they are stabilizing him now, and Dr. Banner and Captain Rogers are waiting for word from you. Thor is threatening to come up and see if you are still live.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. Tell Thor to chill out. His brother seems to like me,” he said with a cocky grin and a wink. “Then inform everyone that I am going to jury rig something that I hope works. Send a defibrillator to the workshop. I need to do a little modifying. I’ll be down there when I’m done. If I’m right, this shouldn’t take long.”

“Confident much?”

“Completely. Now, follow me to where I do my magic," Tony said and headed for the private stairs to his workshop. He paused to whisper in Loki’s ear: “You can fuck me later when this all works out. Call it incentive to keep your temper in check. No sex if I'm dead, because that's just really gross in any realm for any race of people, isn't it?”

“You are truly mad, Stark”

“Yup,” Tony called out from the stairwell. “Science now. Sex after.”


	16. Chapter 16

Tony found it terribly distracting to have Loki literally hovering over him in the workshop. The Asgardian prince looked on with extreme interest at all of Tony’s gadgets. At least Dummy stopped following him around with the fire extinguisher, which was the only ‘weapon’ his bot could get his claw on to protect his maker.

Tony chuckled when they had entered the space and Dummy had rushed at the intruder. The billionaire literally had to drag Dummy away from trying to do Loki bodily harm. Thank fuck that Loki hadn’t attacked first and asked questions later. 

Now ordered to his charging station, Dummy kept a close watch on Tony’s guest, letting out a disgruntled ‘beep’ every once in awhile. Loki kept a wary eye on the bot as well. 

Tony grabbed one of his few spare reactors out of his safe, paranoia being firmly in place when he went through the security procedure to access the device. He’d even casually mentioned to Loki that if anyone else but him attempted to force their way into the safe, the items inside would be destroyed.

The billionaire didn’t trust easily. He’d been betrayed too many times in the past. And Loki was… well, the God of Lies, so there.

Tony hypothesized that since the arc reactor and the Tesseract’s energy signatures were similar, he needed to reverse the charged plasma particles that flowed through the magnetic field lines. This should form a sort of force field cocooning the reactor and what it was hooked to, thus shielding it from the Tesseract’s influence.

This would even work on a larger scale for the reactor that powered his tower. Once it was adjusted similarly, no Tesseract-based energy signatures would be able to enter the Tower again after they cleaned it of the original taint already present.

Now that he knew what he had to do, Tony had the guts of the medical device spread out on his workbench. He attached the reactor to the defibrillator, and by severely limiting the power flowing through the field coils, he could make sure neither the Tesseract or arc reactor technology wouldn’t fry Coulson’s heart in his chest.

The only problem was that this device was good for only two to three jolts before the circuitry in the defibrillator would melt into useless slag.

Tony was sure it would work… eighty-nine point two percent sure. Yeah.

On the up side, if percentages were correct and they succeeded, the promise of sex was a delightful thing to think about. It never failed to hook even the most noble of men. Or the most wicked.

He could see that Loki hadn’t forgotten the reward for this high-stakes gamble.

The god pondered physical fulfillment between watching Stark with his scientific mysteries. Loki had lain with more partners than he could remember. He’d kept a paramour or two in most realms. He wasn’t as frivolous with his lovers as Thor. He was more selective. 

If Loki began to imagine an intimate relationship with Stark, his first thoughts were that a Midgardian was far below his standards, but a voice inside his head – or was it his heart – knew this man was unique. The more he learned about Stark, the more intriguing he became. He spoke to Loki in a way others rarely did. He wasn’t a parental figure in any manner but Stark did have some helpful wisdom to impart. Even if it was to remind Loki of the god he was and the power that lay dormant within him.

So if they had created a temporary truce and agreed to use each other for various reasons, Loki saw no reason why sex couldn’t be a side benefit -- no reason other than Thor, the Beast in Banner, those annoying SHIELD agents, and all the threats looming outside the Tower.

Loki exhaled loudly in frustration and sidestepped the mechanical arm that trailed after Stark once again.

He could’ve perched on the settee and merely watched the Midgardian tinker around his workshop but Loki became fascinated with the man's technology, particularly Stark’s kind of technology. The scientist used light and energy to translate schematics and ideas and thoughts. The artificial servant was also quite in tune to Stark’s idioms, quips, and desires, sometimes before the man spoke. Loki wondered if there was a telepathic link between Stark and his technology. He’d have to delve into that when they had more time to speak about it, if they had more time.

Stark’s proposal was worrisome in many ways. Loki had found his courage again, but he wasn’t so bold as to completely ignore the potential consequences of trying to outsmart a cosmic entity older than Odin’s father.

Then he would feel a twinge of desire again while closely watching the engineer work and create detailed designs with the ease of one understood physics, electricity, matter and even magic. Did Stark even realize magic was at work with his arc reactor technology?

Now he could see that it would only seduce Stark more to know that their specialties mingled here on Midgard. Oddly enough, just owning the man’s body did not seem enough. He wanted to entertain the man’s mind. 

But what of his heart? No, Loki wasn’t comfortable with that level of yearning. He blamed his exile for his current feelings of loneliness, telling himself that would recede with time…

“If I am to accompany you into the medical room with Agent Coulson, tell me, what of the Black Widow and Barton and Banner? They wish to harm me. I cannot help you if I’m busy protecting myself from attack.”

Tony looked over his shoulder as he started packing up the modified equipment. He took the screwdriver out of his mouth and set it on the workbench.

“I think if Jarvis explains to them that you are there to make sure the damn Tesseract lets Coulson go, they will refrain from trying to take your head off. Steve's a good guy. He won’t let Widow and Hawkeye take you out if that's the right call." 

"I feel so reassured," Loki deadpanned.

"Hey, I already have to repair one Thor-sized hole in the wall. You Asgardians can cause a lot of damage to my property," he teased, putting the casing back on the device, "and I really don't want anymore construction. I'll just inform them that if you hadn’t clued me in on how the Tesseract magic and my arc reactor energy are similar in nature, I never would have been able to jury rig what just might save Coulson’s life. That will definitely get you some street cred with Banner.” 

Tony grabbed the defibrillator then sighed in exasperation as once more, Dummy tried to get between him and Loki.

“Dummy, back to your corner. I’m fine. Loki is helping here. I don’t think you want to wind up living out your existence as a wind up toy. Now leave the pretty god alone okay?” Tony patted Dummy fondly and waited for the robot to finally move.

Even though the bot took its own sweet time doing it, Dummy turned its sensor array towards Loki and blew his electronic equivalent of a ‘raspberry’.

“Okay. Jarvis, tell everyone I’m on my way back down to the medical bay. I’ll have Loki with me, so absolutely no bloodshed, got it? Tell them he was instrumental in helping me figure out a solution and will be there to make sure the Tesseract’s influence is gone for good. We have to do this together or it’s no good.”

“Is that wise, sir?” Jarvis questioned.

“Fuck no. Probably not, but he’s here at my invitation and needs to be in the room. That way, we’ll know if it tries to influence anyone else when it leaves Coulson. Thor can help control Loki, if need be, right?” Tony winked, walked past the god, and waited for him to follow at the elevator.

“I shall inform everyone as you requested, sir.”

“Thanks, J." Tony still waited for Loki to join him. "Well, let’s get this show on the road.” 

Loki was having second thoughts. The logistics of the power source were already resolved by Stark's separately-powered generator. It was the Tesseract that was the unpredictable part of this situation. What if this was its goal? To get Coulson, Barton, and then himself in the same room. What then?

They could possibly level the entire Tower if the three of them began working as a unit.

"Stark," Loki said, tentatively stepping into the elevator. "Perhaps we should rethink certain aspects of this." Then the lights went out and the elevator. Loki sighed heavily. "As I was about to say, I think it knows we're coming and will try to circumvent our interference." 

The elevator began to drop quickly, zipping past the medical bay entirely. "What now, Stark?"

“Jarvis,” Tony said, gripping the smooth wooden railing. “Status on the power grid for the tower?”

“You are safe, sir. I am regulating the power fluctuations. Backup generators are not needed currently. I'm taking control of the elevator now.”

The car shuddered to a halt and then began to ascend back towards the medical floor.

“We need to get this over and done with,” Tony muttered. “I don’t like some uppity bit of magical mojo fucking with my tech and trying to tap into the tower’s reactor. If there is any way to keep it from settling back in Barton or Coulson, then do it. I’m thinking that without a host, the power will dissipate. If that wasn’t the case, it would have taken over everything in the SHIELD facility when it was there.”

"How do you know it didn't?" Loki speculated. "It is a curious entity, and it has all the time in the universe to wait and learn and plot. It could've already sorted through all of SHIELD and become bored. But it does need a host if it desires achievement in any way, which is where Thor can come into this plan. Mjolnir is quite adept at absorbing electricity. Thor can then discharge it somewhere safely away from the Tower."

“Huh. Sounds like a good plan.” 

“They all do until the unpredictable occurs,” Loki said, sharing a sour look with the engineer. 

“Come on. Where’s your optimism?” The car finally stopped with a huge jerk almost knocking Tony off his feet. The doors only partially opened. He saw that it had halted a foot below floor level. When he and Loki began to push them open, he said, “After this, I can make something to detect the taint now that I have its energy signature. So let’s just hope it hasn’t gotten its hooks into anyone else."

Loki forced the door back and casually said, "Did Barton ever mention the 38?"

“The 38?”

“Yes,” Loki nodded and wiped door grease from his hands. “I should like to watch you figure it out.”

“Wait,” Tony said immediately. “Is that… are you telling me… okay, what happened to the people you used your glow stick of doom to aid you in your invasion?"

Loki shrugged nonchalantly. "I honestly do not know. Perhaps Director Fury can shed some light on that."

"Jesus. I hope he rounded them up, but with the invasion and all?” Tony could not help an involuntary shudder at that memory. “I wonder how that little detail slipped through the cracks?”

“Being that I was chained and muzzled in the bowels of the helicarrier for days afterwards, I wouldn’t know. Perhaps Barton would, or Coulson, if he's been the last active contact for the Tesseract."

“Shit. Okay, Coulson first, potential alien-influenced lackeys later. Come on.” Tony stepped up and out of the car almost bumping into Thor who leaned in to help. 

He looked towards the med bay and saw Steve standing outside Coulson’s room. It seemed like the honor guard was in place to stop any unnecessary flinging of knives or other deadly projectiles.

"Stark." Thor said, helping them out of the elevator with the equipment. "Brother," he said next, reaching a hand out. Surprisingly, the dark prince took it. Thor's gaze lingered on his Loki, trying to assess how gravely the effects of the Tesseract were affecting him. "Are you well?"

"Not really. This feels like walking into a dragon's lair." Now that he was here, Loki's confidence faltered. He was surrounded by threats on every side, save for Thor, and he could feel the pull of the Tesseract like a noose tightening around his neck.

Tony glanced behind him watching as Loki accepted Thor’s help. He trusted that the Thunder God would keep his brother safe, so the engineer walked up to Steve. "Here to keep the peace?” 

“More or less," Steve replied as he moved out of the doorway. "Natasha is upset, of course. She wants Loki no where near Barton or Coulson, but she also understands that it might be necessary that he be here.” 

“How did you manage to convince her of that?” Because Tony knew the red headed agent could be scary as fuck at times.

“You can thank Bruce. He can come up with a pretty logical argument that was hard to refute." Steve looked curiously at the jury rigged piece of medical machinery. "So what did you do in your workshop?” 

“Something that I hope works and does not blow up in our faces. Time will tell.” Tony walked in ahead of the Captain. Clint was lying on the sofa heavily sedated. Natasha sat near him stroking the archer’s hair. Since Barton looked oblivious to the world, Tony guessed her gestures were to comfort herself.

The nurse - Bill? Rob? Bobby? That was it. Bobby stood near Coulson's bed looking tense, as if he expected things to go hideously wrong. Well, around here that would be a fair estimation of S.O.P.

Bruce busied himself with the monitoring equipment surrounding Coulson. His shoulders were stiff and his mouth pressed into a hard line.

“Bruce! I come bearing gifts,” Tony said. He went over to the doctor and handed him the device, resting his hand on the man's shoulder. "The modifications I’ve done to the defibrillator should offset the Tesseract’s interference. It’s only good for two, maybe three jolts though, so make ‘em count. I’d also suggest removing any other equipment that might cause a problem."

He turned and to the rest of the room said, "Let’s all play nice, okay? It’s time for Agent to wake from his extended vacation and we need Loki’s help to do it.”

Tony turned his attention back to Banner and leaned towards him to quietly ask, “You holding up okay?”

He gave Tony a look that conveyed all his worry, hope, and doubt all in one. "This sounds like a good plan,” he said quietly. “I just don't know if it is going to work. Is it even going to leave Coulson intact or shred his mind to pieces as a parting gift? That's something I didn't even bring up at the meeting." 

He glanced at Natasha, hoping she wasn't hearing his concerns voiced.

“Well, theoretically it should work,” Tony reassured. “Loki has imparted to me that the arc reactor and the Tesseract have similar energy signatures. So by tinkering with the polarity of the reactor as a power source, I can negatively charge the defibrillator, which should drive out the Tesseract energy. At least that’s the plan. I have it set pretty low so we don’t burn out Phil’s heart.” 

"Really?" Bruce said, staring at Tony in sheer wonder. "Huh. You came up with that in under an hour?" He wondered who to thank for allowing their paths to cross. Saying the Stark was a genius was an understatement. It went well beyond that, and Bruce thoroughly enjoyed watching Tony Stark create.

He opened the defibrillator case and took out the device to set it on a silver cart that was not attached to anything in the room. He'd moved out all other non-vital pieces of equipment, and Bobby was around to take those when Banner gave him the word. He evaluated the changes Tony had made and raised his brow. "I see why they pay you all that money." He gave Tony a lopsided grin. "Good job, Stark."

“Why thank you, Dr. Banner. You’re not too shabby yourself,” Tony said and grinned back. With a clap of his hands, he said, “Okay, Jarvis. Is there anyway you can completely redirect the electricity from this floor?"

"Yes, I can. You'll need to save any data in the nurse's station. I can do that for you if you'd like."

“Do it, J. Anything Bruce needs,” Tony replied, trying to not act as nervous as he felt. It was only Coulson’s life he was toying with.

The lights went out, the monitors hushed, and the ventilation quieted. There was plenty of light coming through the large windows, but the room was now cast in shadow.

"I also want everyone to remove anything electronic from here,” Bruce stated. “That means any cell phones or devices you have that aren't patterned after arc reactor technology. Put any of that out at the nurse's station, would you? I don't want to give the Tesseract’s energy anywhere to go."

“Gotcha," Tony said, emptying his pockets of all his tech toys. "I’ll feel so naked, but it is for the greater good. Oh, and Loki will have to monitor the proceedings. We would not want the alien energy to inhabit anyone else." 

Bruce nodded but looked like he was trying to ignore the Loki-part of the conversation.

"Also, once it’s gone,” Tony continued, “I can modify the reactor powering the Tower to create a shield against the taint ever coming back, as long as the reactor is functioning. Barring disaster, that protection should be several hundred years, give or take a decade.” 

The doctor rubbed his eye with a finger under his glasses. "So yeah, um, that sounds really clever and I'm pleased with the safeguard for the Tower, but I have to ask about Loki? And this isn’t me just being a dick so hear me out.”

“Okay, shoot.” 

Bruce stood there for a moment, blinking down at the keypad on the defibrillator, not really seeing it. "Let's think this through. The Tesseract is energy. You know you can't destroy energy. It just morphs into something else. So when it leaves Coulson, it can't fully go into the Tower, because it is functioning on arc reactor technology. So where's it going to go?"

"With Barton, it simply traveled the Helicarrier and found its way back to the scepter," Loki answered regally. He stood proudly, shoulders back as all eyes turned on him where he stood in the doorway. 

"With Selvig," he continued, not missing a beat, "he was standing next to the Tesseract's portal outside Stark Tower. You may not have seen the energy return to its origin, but it did. As for this scenario, Thor and I have now discussed it, and we believe we can manage this between the two of us."  
Loki stood rigid, face unreadable, eyes intense. His brother stood next to him confidently, hammer in hand at the ready. Loki looked past Steve Rogers into the medical room and saw Barton laying on a nearby couch. 

Then He locked eyes with Romanoff. All was well until the hint of a smirk twitched on Loki's face.

Steve was waiting for such an occurrence. He’d placed himself unobtrusively between Loki and Natasha for a reason. He’d watched both of them closely, acutely aware of the exact instant Natasha uncoiled herself from her chair to attack. 

Using his exceptional speed and reflexes, he grabbed the Widow around the waist and swung her back around. He had her in an unbreakable grip, hoping she would choose to leave his more vulnerable bits alone.

Natasha was struggling wildly and cursing in Russian. Steve barely missed getting racked in the balls as she kicked.

“That is enough,” Rogers roared. “Stand down! We are here for Agent Coulson, not to fight amongst ourselves. Either you calm down and tend to your partner or I’ll eject you from the room under armed guard," he ordered, like the Captain he was.

"And Thor, control your brother, damn it. This is exactly what we do not need right now.” 

The Thunder God merely raised a brow. He was clearly pleased that his brother hadn't taken a single step forward so he didn’t know what the fuss was about. Loki appeared more interested with Barton laying on the couch than with the Black Widow's fierceness.

Natasha spat out another vile epitaph before she surrendered and ceased struggling. She was breathing heavily, but Steve could literally feel Nat pulling herself together. She shoved at Steve’s brawny arms until she calmed. Finally, she nodded, acknowledging her composure and obedience, at least for the time being, and Cap let her go.

She stalked back over to the sofa and quickly rifled through Clint’s pocket for his cell phone. She took out her own and left the room, giving Loki a wide berth. A moment later, she came back in and arranged herself next to Clint as if nothing had happened.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief at one crisis averted. He looked quickly at Bruce and was relieved that he didn’t look too upset. Annoyed at the delay? Yes. Green? No. He too took out his phone and also placed it in the nurse’s station. Then he took up his place again near Loki, ready to do anything necessary to ensure peace.

Tony sighed and shook his head. This was going to be fun. After he came back into the room, devoid of all his tech, he went up to Coulson’s bed to watch the proceedings.

"Room full of chaos, and we're about to add more," Bruce mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the continuing support of our story. Huge hugs to you all.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter, since the last was such a cliffhanger. My beta had this one ready for us early. Also, the medical knowledge contained in this chapter was used for fictional purposes only.

Clearly, Bruce thought to himself, they were out of their freaking minds. 

The Other Guy was chomping at the bit, begging to get out and play, to lay hands on Loki and anyone else who wanted to go a few rounds. Bruce still felt fierce resentment towards Loki. Then there was SHIELD. He blamed the organization for forcing Coulson to endure this form of existence. That anger mixed with the frustration he felt at not being able to control the outcome with the Tesseract still in charge.

The doctor turned his back on the others in the room and focused on Agent Coulson. They'd either get their shit together soon or the Hulk would emerge. He was reassured that either way, the sun would set tonight, and life outside the Tower would go on for the rest of the world. Hopefully.

"Okay, let's get this over with,” he prompted. “One way or another, Coulson is going to find some peace today."

Bobby skirted just about everyone in the room, save for Captain Rogers. He was shaken by what they were attempting to do with the cosmic entities about them, but he went to Dr. Banner's side, ready for instruction and aid.

With an urging nod from Tony, Bruce prepared Coulson for the defibrillator, exposing his chest before putting pads on the agent's skin where the paddles would rest. He pulled the modified device closer to the bed and paused, looking down at his patient. 

Phil Coulson wasn't a monster. He wasn't a threat. He wasn't an alien being or even alien technology sent to end the world. Phil Coulson was just an unconscious man on a hospital bed, laying there helpless, bare-chested, waiting to be revived or released to whatever was beyond this life. He was also a hero in the eyes of everyone in the room, save for Loki, and Bruce wasn't going to lose this fight, not without giving it everything he had. 

"Okay," Bruce said, pausing to look over his shoulder at the Asgardians. "Before we begin, I'm going to need to know where you're going with the energy, because-"

"Mjolnir absorbs electric energy," Thor answered. His face was grim but intrepid. "Loki will pull out the energy from the Tesseract and I will collect it."

“Right.” Bruce said, skeptically. “And uh, how sure are you about this working out in our favor?”

Before Loki could speak, Thor answered: "When a being is exorcised, it withdraws from its host and seeks another. Loki will provoke it, invite it to him, but instead of allowing it to possess him, I will intercept and collect it." He moved towards the window and looked outside at the people of New York below. "I can change its power into what you call electromagnetic energy, or lightning, and I will discharge it where it will not harm anyone from the top of Stark Tower where the lightning rods are placed. It should be harmless to all."

Loki's face remained entirely passive throughout Thor’s speech, but his eyebrow twitched at the last proclamation. 

He'd had millennia to learn how to mask anxiety or any apprehension he felt in situations. Kingdoms were built and fell because of carefully-veiled diplomacy and the art of deception, even when confidence was lacking. This should've been no different for. And so he tried his best not to look at Tony Stark but found himself staring into those perceptive brown eyes across the room. A part of him wanted the man entirely out of the room, should things not go in their favor. Surely, there had to be a safer place to linger than here, but there was no time to discuss such a thing, particularly with an audience who would protest. 

So he covered his concern with a warning. "Do not interfere or intervene, lest you may ruin this entire plan."

Tony locked eyes with Loki and nodded. Was that concern hidden within that veiled threat? Seemed his bravado had not deserted him after all. 

Loki's gaze shifted back to Coulson. His eyes flashed blue and he tensed. "You must do this now."

"Dr. Banner," Thor began, striding back towards Loki.

"Yeah, on it," Bruce replied, his heart beginning to thud heavily in his chest. Loki was no threat to him, but the Asgardian could still hurt the others in the room if he were to go rabid again.

He programmed Tony's jury-rigged defibrillator with the output needed, electricity that was now powered by arc reactor technology. “Well, this will be a first in Stark Industries history, right?”

Tony smirked sheepishly. “Unless you count the times Jarvis has given me a jolt every now and then.”

“Wait, what?” Bruce said, incredulously.

Tony waved a hand nonchalantly. “That’s for another time. Worry about Coulson now.”

The doctor rolled his eyes but agreed. “Okay, so we’re ready then.”

"Hang on," the nurse said.

Bruce paused once more, hands hovering over the defibrillator paddles. "What is it now?"

"I just wanted to mention that the power's been off for a few minutes," Bobby reminded, "and so Agent Barton's IV drip stopped, since the pump runs on electricity. I just wanted to remind everyone that he's going to wake up any moment now."

"Right. Okay, thanks for that.” Bruce craned his head over his shoulder, caught Steve's eyes. “You got that, Cap?" 

“Is waking Barton up such a good idea," Steve asked with a concerned glance at the form lying on the couch. "We could barely keep control of him before without hurting him.” 

"I'm hoping this will be over before he stirs," Bruce said. He finished setting up the machine and asked Bobby to step back. The doctor picked up the paddles connected to the machine. "Everyone still in agreement? Last chance to speak."

“I want this over. No matter what the result," Natasha declared. "Clint can’t handle any more of this." She slid her body in behind the archer and wrapped him in her arms.

Tony nodded. “Yeah. Agent wouldn’t want to live like this, with the Tesseract using him. So yes, help him, Bruce." 

Steve kept a wary eye on everyone in the room. He hated the thought of an enemy he could not physically fight but they had no choice. “Fire it up, doctor.”

“Let’s pray I was right.” Tony stepped a bit further away. He wasn’t anticipating a mishap but one never knows.

Bruce rolled his shoulders and exhaled, briefly pausing to run through a lightning-fast mental check list. He placed the paddles on the soft pads on Coulson's chest. It chirped several times in recognition of its purpose and began beeping in a steady rhythm. It was reading Coulson's heart rate, steady but rapid. 

"Okay. Remember, this is going to cause sudden cardiac arrest. His heart will stop, the monitor will flat line, things will sound horrible for a moment, and that’s when the energy of the Tesseract should flee. In theory.”

“We are ready," Thor said, nodding at a very unwell Loki. "Brother?"

Loki's eyes were fixed on Coulson but his was head turned, as if listening to something else in the room.

"Thor, is he okay? Because without him…" Bruce began. The room was becoming tense with the lack of action and the dead silence, save for Coulson's heartbeat registering through the mechanical device.

Then Loki began to shake his head from side to side. "No," he said, his face revealing his fear. Then louder, "No this isn't going to work. It's going to fight us, you need to--"

Bruce startled as a hand clamped around his neck with brutal strength, strangling him. It hurt. Far more than it should. The Hulk should've materialized by now. It was Coulson who was now sitting up, appearing fully awake, blue eyes wide open, staring at him with no emotion. And, he was currently cutting off Bruce’s supply of oxygen. 

What was even more startling, was the fact that the Hulk was completely absent. Even through the pain of being strangled, Bruce realized this wasn't an act of Phil Coulson but the last efforts of the Tesseract's will.

He reached for the defibrillator device and slammed his hand down on the keypad. Sparks arched in the air between machine and man, and Coulson went down. Bruce did too. 

“Shit!” Bobby said, his cursing mingling with the many voiced in the room. The defibrillator's monitor sounded a flat line, signaling to everyone that Coulson's heart was no longer beating.

Loki lunged forward, fingers reaching out towards the blue misty particles rising from Coulson’s form. “Loki, no!” Thor said, tackling him to the ground.

Tony looked on in horror at the clusterfuck this had become just seconds ago. “Cap, I need you with Coulson! Hold him down in case he tries to kill anyone again. Bobby, we’ve got to get his heart beating again. And how’s Bruce? Anyone? Come on, people!” 

At Tony’s quick glance from the other side of the bed, it looked like Bruce was breathing on the floor. With the Hulk’s resistance, he doubted the doctor was seriously injured, but it concerned him that the green guy hadn’t emerged to protect the doctor. It did things to Tony to see Bruce lying there, unconscious, not to mention they needed his expertise here. 

Steve threw off his momentary shock at this sudden turn of events and rushed to Phil’s side. The deafening flat line of the monitor’s tone sounded too much like a death knell. He stood ready at the head of the bed to restrain the agent if needed.

“Come on, Bobby. I'm labeled genius and all, but you’re going to have to tell me how to do this. I’m not a doctor.” Tony righted the equipment and hastily checked the machine for damage.

"This isn't right," Bobby said, breathing fast, kneeling beside Bruce, checking the doctor’s pulse. When he stood up, he clearly not happy leaving Banner down and unconscious but he had to prioritize. "Where is whatever was supposed to come out of Agent Coulson?"

"Dealing with that now," Thor said, struggling to contain this brother, pinned underneath him. They couldn't see Loki's face, but they all heard his maniacal laughter.

Tony flinched at the sound and wanted desperately to turn around to help Loki, somehow, but he had to trust Thor would keep them safe. “I thought you were supposed to intercept that, Thor!”

“Moving on to Plan B,” he said, still struggling with his brother. 

“You have a Plan B?”

“Yes, it was Loki’s original idea.”

“Right, of course it was,” Tony muttered, sickened even more that Loki would allow himself to be possessed as part of this scheme. But he had to focus on other things right now and allow Thor to manage the trickster. 

“Guys?” Natasha felt the first twitch as Clint’s body slowly came back to awareness. When Phil suddenly sat up and attacked Bruce, her first instinct was to rush to the bedside, but then Clint convulsed in her arms muscles tensed like steel cables. The archer’s eyes snapped open and they mirrored the otherworldly-blue of Coulson’s and now Loki too.

It took all of her strength to keep him down. Then as suddenly as it happened, Clint went slack in her embrace. Natasha’s blood ran cold as Loki’s insane laughter filled the room. She looked down when she heard Clint speak.

“No, no, no," Clint repeated over and over. "Not again, please, not again.” 

Bobby's eyes darted to the various components of chaos in the room that happened within seconds of each other. He was on the other side of Coulson's bed, standing across from Tony. "Okay, Mr. Stark, you said this has up to three charges on it, right?"

“Yeah, we’re still good to go to get Coulson back.” 

"Okay, I need both of you to listen to me carefully," Bobby explained. "Captain, please don't let Coulson move again. He's technically dead right now, but given what I've seen recently, I'm not certain about anything anymore. So just hold him, sir, down until I tell you otherwise."

Steve nodded and grasped Phil’s shoulders tightly. He bit his lip and waited anxiously, hating the feel of his friend’s lifeless body under his hands.

"Mr. Stark," he said, "I'm going to need you to push the green button on the defibrillator. It's going to send another charge over the wires to hopefully restore Coulson's cardiac rhythm. But only do it when I say so. And when you do, no one can be touching Coulson or the bed. Everyone understand?"

“Yeah, yeah got it. Come on, ready when you are,” Tony replied. He prayed this worked. Now was not the time to prove to his old man what a fuck up he could be.

"He is much stronger now," Thor relayed, still wrestling with Loki. The dark prince released a burst of blue magic that skittered across the floor and up the walls, like crackling fingers of lightning. Barton convulsed when one of the tendrils wound around him like a vine of thorns.

“We’re out of time, guys!” Tony shouted. “We need to finish this,” 

Bobby removed the now charred pads that lay on Coulson’s chest. When he lifted the paddles for the defibrillator, he noted they were blackened too, and there were wires exposed where the plastic had melted away. His hands would come in contact with those wires, meaning the electricity would shoot through his body as well. Still, he knew what had to be done. 

"Okay, when I call it, move away from the bed and press the green button. The defibrillator will discharge and the monitor will either pick up Coulson’s pulse or remain flat lined. If he is still without a pulse, push the button again. If it works the first time and there's still that third charge left, I'd like you to use the last round to revive me, okay, Mr. Stark?"

“What?” Steve asked. “Let me do it.”

"No, sir. You’re needed elsewhere, just like Iron Man. If t his goes wrong, the Avengers have to deal with Loki again. Now this man's brain needs oxygen from a revived and pumping heart. So, Mr. Stark, on my mark..." Bobby hated disobeying the Captain, but he knew this was the right thing to do. He pressed firmly on the paddles and looked at Steve's face. "Sir, will you tell my parents..."

"Stark," Thor shouted. "Wait!"

Tony looked over at Thor dreading what he might see. 

“Fuck! What now," he snapped. Tony was being pulled in too many directions at once.

"Please, allow me to use that final charge," he begged. "If electricity powered by your arc reactor is infused with my hammer, I can drive this out of Loki." 

Thor struggled again. As it was, he was laying fully on the prince with his brother's hands held down to the marbled floor. "He's growing stronger, Stark. We must exorcise this from him."

“Damn it! We need to revive Coulson. If Loki gets loose, affected like that, no telling the damage he will do again. We’re playing this by ear. Everyone ready?” Tony’s finger hovered over the button.

Steve laid his hand briefly on Bobby’s shoulder. “You’re a brave soldier and a credit to your country. Your parents will be proud. I’ll make sure they know.” 

Sweat ran down Tony’s back, making his shirt stick to his skin. He literally held the lives of two people in his hands. “Okay, ready? Hands off, Cap. Do it on my mark."

Bobby nodded.

"3… 2… 1… mark." Then Tony hit the button.

There was a brief pause before Coulson’s chest arched up off the bed as the arc reactor's electricity raced through his body. Bobby convulsed as well then he slumped over sideways and started to fall to the ground. “Cap!”

“Got him.” Steve caught the young man and gently eased him down. He tried to find a pulse but there was none. “Stark?”

Please, please, please work, Tony repeated to himself. He also hoped that the wisps of smoke from the defibrillator were only his imagination. Tony held his breath and waited. A second went by, then another. Tony thought he too was on the verge of a fucking heart attack. Then a tiny blip on the monitor was followed a few more, then a steady rhythm was established. 

Coulson's heart was beating again on its own. 

Tony breathed a huge sigh of relief and felt like collapsing, but he couldn’t. Loki was basically possessed again and Bobby lay dead on the floor next to an unconscious Bruce Banner.

He still had a hard decision to make and the defibrillator was definitely smoking. “One last charge and then this thing is toast,” Tony shouted. 

Loki laughed again. He waited for Thor's momentary pause for relief at the revival of comrade, and then he elbowed his brother twice in the temple, gaining the upper hand. 

He rolled until the lack of Thor's weight allowed him partial freedom. Then he reached out and grabbed Natasha's leg, taking the small blade sheathed in her ankle holster. He lashed out and grazed Thor's side, opening a long but shallow wound. Thor moved to protect himself and it was enough to allow Loki to struggle to his feet.

The nurses in the wing who'd gathered in the doorway scattered when Loki fled, some of them knocked to the ground by the force of Asgardian fleeing.

"Tony?" Bruce's head was spinning. He wasn't sure how he ended up on the floor, but he had a good idea. The room smelled of sweat, fear, and burnt electrical wiring. It gave a good indication as to how things were going, but nothing was as sweet as the sound of the monitor with its strong pulsing rhythm sounding in Bruce's ears. 

“Tony!” Steve managed to shake the engineer out of his temporary paralysis after watching Loki flee the room. "Bobby isn’t breathing. I can’t find a pulse."

“Jarvis," Tony forced out from behind gritted teeth, "Security protocol eve, niner, six, alpha, two, niner. Lock it down! Put your server off line from the rest of the Tower and restore power to this floor. The Tesseract is in Loki right now, so let's hope it stays there and doesn’t hop into my fucking power grid.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Loud slamming was heard as blast shielding dropped over the exterior windows and the floors were sealed off one by one on the top ten levels. The power flickered back on and blinked a few times before stabilizing.

“Thor, this machine is almost dead. We need your hammer to give it enough of a charge to help Bobby. These paddles are fried but if we wrap the leads around the head of your hammer, I can still control the current."

Thor was clearly torn between chasing after his brother and helping the innocent young man who had given his life for Agent Coulson. 

"Do not approach Loki," Thor instructed to the nurses outside the room. "I will deal with him momentarily."

He then strode over to Tony and held up his hammer.

Tony powered off the unit and pulled the useless paddles away from the main wires. He then stripped the plastic casings off with his teeth. He grabbed a roll of medical tape and taped the bare wires to the metal head of Mjolnir.

“Okay, powering this back up. Cross your fingers this works."

He looked over the edge of the equipment at the doctor still laying on the floor. He was waking but groggy. "Bruce? We could really use your help here. I’m flying blind.”

"Do the... thing," Bruce muttered, waving a limp finger in the air. That was the extent of help he could offer at the moment.

"Shit! Cap? Open Bobby’s shirt and lay him flat."

Steve laid Bobby prone on the floor and grabbed the edges of his scrub top and ripped it in two, exposing the man’s chest. He scooted back out of the way and hoped that he would not be telling Bobby’s parents that their son died with honor today to save another man’s life.

“Okay, Thor. When I hit the button, press the hammer against Bobby’s chest. We’ve got to get his heart beating again too. Ready? 3...2...1,” Tony hit the button, “Now Thor!”

Thor had electrocuted far more than he had saved, but he was familiar with the concept. Sif had been revived once before like this. More energy and current were needed to resuscitate an Asgardian warrior, but the concept was the same here on Midgard.

He knew to place the side of the head of his hammer flat against the skin next to the man's heart, and angle the handle towards the man's left arm. He used his hand to stop the current there, just below the Midgardian's heart. There, it would form a perfect triangle, allowing the electricity needed to power the human body. He could feel the current rushing through his muscles and bones, and he restrained the flow at first as to not burn the boy. 

Gradually, he increased it until their patient's body arched off the cold floor like a puppet in his hand. When Thor was satisfied and felt the responding electrical pulse within the nurse, he lifted Mjolnir from the man's chest and stood.

He didn't disconnect from the defibrillator yet but instead drew every ampere of energy from the device and channeled it into the head of the hammer until the portable device died out completely and was silent.

When Steve saw Thor remove Mjolnir from Bobby's body, he fumbled for the pulse in the nurse's neck. He was gratified to feel it fluttering under his fingertips, but he then noticed one other alarming fact. “He’s still not breathing.”

Steve tipped the nurse’s head back, pinched his nose shut and sealed his mouth over the fallen soldier’s. Four breaths and Steve paused. Nothing. Four more and Steve checked again.

“Damn it, come on.” Steve cursed and tried again. 

Finally Bobby’s chest heaved and he began to cough. Steve sat back up and was almost shaking with relief. The young man’s eyes opened and Steve managed a crooked smile. “Welcome back, soldier.”

Bobby looked around a bit dazed before frowning at the Captain. "Did someone just kiss me?"

“Hey, I know that feeling,” Tony recalled. "But me? I got a full on Hulk roar to the face to wake me up. You son, just got kissed by Captain America.” 

Steve blushed crimson. “Tony! It was CPR!”

"Really? Wow," Bobby muttered, coughing a little. He sat up slowly and looked around, clearly still amazed he was alive. "Don't worry, sir. I never kiss and tell." He smiled then, holding out a hand towards Cap for a handshake. "Thank you, sir."

Cap took the man’s offered hand and smiled back. “It was the least I could do. And again, call me Steve.”

“I hate to interrupt this little bromance," Tony said, "but I have to remind you that we have bigger issues here, like where the fuck is Loki?” 

"Leave him to me," Thor demanded. He strode from the room, hammer crackling with blue energy in hand.

Clint’s mind was a foggy mess. He felt hollowed out and very cold. He could not stop the trembling of his limbs. He was barely aware that Natasha had let him go and was nowhere to be seen. Clint paused to rip the IV out of his arm as he levered himself off the couch.

More important than trying to break through his drug-induced haze was the desperation to see if their crazy plan had worked. He wanted, no needed, to see if Phil was alive. He needed it like he needed air to breathe.

Slowly, he made his way across the room, winding between his team mates, discarded machinery, and medical supplies strewn across the charred floor. He was almost too afraid to look at the bed where his mentor lay. 

Clint looked down and felt like collapsing from relief. Phil was breathing. Still in disbelief, he reached out one shaking hand and placed it on Coulson’s chest.

He was alive, but was he whole?

Tony stood up and watched Clint wander over. So the archer was back among the living and had staggered over to Phil’s side. He’d have cracked a joke, but even his throat felt tight with emotion, so he let it ride. 

Coulson frowned ever so slightly when the weight of a hand pressed down on his chest. He tried to take a deeper breath, but it was difficult. The one thing he was sure of was that he'd been rescued, and he knew who was responsible. Phil licked his lips, even as dry as his mouth and tongue were. He couldn't open his eyes yet, but he tried to speak anyway.

He could feel the warmth from Clint's body as the archer bent to listen to his whispered words. He could smell the agent's aftershave mixed with a light layer of adrenaline-sweet sweat. He wanted the whole story, but he knew it could wait. It was enough that he was alive and free and that Clint was at his side. Still, reassurance that they'd won would be pretty close to paradise right now.

"Barton," Coulson managed to whisper. "Talk to me."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the amazing comments, kudos and continuing patience with the chapter releases. Love you all!
> 
> Warning this chapter contains elements of mind control.

"Barton," Coulson managed to whisper. "Talk to me."

Clint could not stop shaking. Those four simple words that Coulson spoke, the ones he heard after every mission, threatened to destroy any composure that remained.

Now, they held so much more weight. The phrase that grounded him in the past was now a testament to how much they’d been through and how they’d both survived their experience with the Tesseract and Loki.

Unable to help himself, Clint wrapped his arms around the agent’s body and hung on tight.

Loki was on the loose, Stark and Rogers were arguing about going after the Asgardian, Natasha probably went after Loki to feed him his nuts, but right now? He couldn't have cared less about any of them. The archer was right where he wanted to be. Propriety be damned. Clint might be horrified by his behavior later but that it didn’t stop him now from displaying his heart-felt affection.

“So glad you’re alive, sir,” he whispered.

“Me too.”

Clint could have said so much more. He’d kept his feelings for Phil Coulson buried for too long. He ached to tell the agent exactly how he felt but the words just weren't there yet.

Coulson was aware of his physicality and emotional state again. Things like pain, hunger, fatigue, and fear of what happened and what was to come bombarded his mind and body. He worried of Fury and the future, of Loki now hosting what was left of the Tesseract's energy, and of what to do with his favorite charge. Clint Barton had obviously taken fire, so to speak, with this last incident, and he wished he had control of his faculties enough to sit up and help the archer re-center himself.

“Hey, stay with me, Barton. Just a little bit longer.”

“Not going anywhere, sir." Clint let go for a moment. He needed to sit down. The residual effects of the Tesseract energy and the drugs he was on made the archer feel shaky and weak. He snagged a nearby chair and pulled it right up beside Coulson’s bed and gratefully collapsed onto the cushioned seat. Clint picked up his senior agent’s hand, laced their fingers together, and pressed it to his forehead.

Feeling at peace for the first time in months, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, one that was relatively pain free, not weighed down by the crushing guilt that had plagued him.

Phil coughed lightly, nothing of worry, just trying to remember how to take a deep breath. He was lightheaded, the kind of feeling you get when being brained by the butt of a weapon or thrown into a wall post-explosion. But he had a sense of contentment that he hadn't experienced in perhaps years. It was probably the adrenaline in his system.

All prisoners of war had the desire to live it up in completely ludicrous ways when they were finally brought home. For some, it was booze and drugs, for others it might be sex.

Phil knew this was something deeper. He had the desire to live his life for a purpose other than the service to his country and fellow man. Sure, he still had that internal drive to do good, but he felt a more selfish motive. And the cause was currently perched on a chair, clutching his hand. Phil would've ribbed Barton about such sentiment if he'd been up to it, but instead, he squeezed the archer's hand gently. The calluses he felt there were familiar. Phil could picture the grace and power in the lines of his fingers and the contours of the muscles of his arms.

Clint felt the reassuring pressure of Phil’s hand and raised his head. A genuinely fond smile graced his handsome face, making him look years younger than his care worn features would suggest.

“Touching reunion,” Tony said. “Glad to see you awake Agent, but crisis here anyone?”

“Can’t you deal with it?” Clint mocked. “There’s five of you and one Tesseract. Loki’s damaged and weak. It’s not getting much out of him this go around.”

“Duly noted, but I can’t say I’m completely content with that.” Tony bent down and held out his hand to Bruce. “Upsy daisy, doctor. Let’s get you off the floor.”

Bruce looked up at Tony, still a little bewildered. He took the proffered hand and depended heavily upon it.

"Well, that was not fun. Where was your arc reactor technology when I was breaking Harlem?" Bruce swayed a little, still not quite sure what to think about the Hulk abandoning him. The Tesseract was always able to dick around with the Other Guy with alarming ease. Perhaps that's what this was. Maybe it was Tony's doing. "Later, we'll have to spitball the merits of your arc reactor technology and the possible lobotomy you just gave the Other Guy, okay?"

He moved towards the couch, remembered Coulson, tried to spin on his heels but kind of botched that. He opted for leaning against the window, motioning for the remaining nurses to enter one at a time to check on Coulson and Bobby.

Steve helped the young nurse to his feet and over to the now vacated sofa. Bobby was still wobbly from his ordeal. “You just sit here awhile, okay? If you need anything, just ask.”

"Sir,” Jarvis interrupted. “We have a situation developing on the north side of the medical wing that could possibly result in death and more property insurance claims."

“Shit. Loki, I’m guessing? Let me ask, is there lightning involved?” Tony rubbed the heel of his hand against his aching forehead.

"No, this appears to be a game of cat and mouse. Agent Romanoff is currently closing in on Loki and has cornered him near a stairwell. I might point out that he has made no aggressive move towards anyone since wounding his brother in Agent Coulson's room. But, that may change momentarily."

“Jarvis, can you block her progress until I get there? Cut off the stairwell or something?” Tony started for the door.

"I have unlocked the stairwell and Loki is proceeding up it now. I will block the door behind him and then allow him entry only to the landing dock level. But sir, I'd rather Thor intercept his brother. I don't believe it is wise for you to approach Loki in his current state."

"Tony wait," Bruce pleaded. "I'm with Jarvis. Let Thor take this. It should be his responsibility."

“I agree with Bruce. It’s too dangerous,” Steve added.

"No one should have to endure that kind of manipulation, not even Loki," Coulson declared, voice weak but clear. He struggled to open his eyes to look at the men in the room. Everything was a blur, but Stark easy to distinguish. He always had some kind of neon-bright aura around him that seemed to scream, look at me, I'm awesome. "There's little energy left to influence Loki right now, but it will try. If you want to take him alive, it should be you, Stark."

“I know. I need to do it. Loki’s going to be a wreck after this. Also, I’m pretty much immune to its influence,” Tony stated, tapping on his arc reactor.

"Tony,” Bruce began, “Loki has tried to kill you before and probably will try again. He’s too smart to make the same mistake twice. And is that Thor's blood Loki spilled on the floor? Is anyone going acknowledge the fact that he's clearly violent again?" he asked, pointing to the place where Thor was cut by Natasha's dagger in Loki's hand. "Do you have a suit available to protect you from him?"

Tony tried to count to ten before he said something he'd regret. He understood Bruce’s fears but Tony knew more about Loki than they did.

“Maybe if someone had given a shit about his emotional state, he would not have turned into a huge dick that tried to take over the planet. Yes I’ve got a suit ready,” many, many suits actually, he didn’t verbalize. “What do you think Loki will do if I come at him armored up? In his confused state, it might goad him to attack. So let me do it my way and I bet I’ll be fine. Thor will be there too. You have to trust me, Banner. But even if you don’t, I’m going anyway. Just me. He’ll see any of the rest of you as a threat.”

Not wanting to hear any more arguments, Tony didn’t wait. He hurried out of the room and up to his living quarters.

Bruce rubbed his hands over his face. “What are we supposed to do now?”

"It's his building," Steve admitted. "Jarvis will lock us out, or in, if Tony wants us to stay away."

Bruce hated this. He hated that Asgardian had already woven his way into Tony's psyche. "Damn that happened fast," he said out loud. He knew Tony was counting on Loki's ability to heal whatever toxin was in his system, but this felt more personal, intimate even, from the way Tony expressed his reasons to go after the trickster god.

"Steve, can you just try and see if Jarvis will let you at least give Tony some back up here? If not, Natasha's going to still be prowling the halls and could probably use a head's up that her mouse got away this time."

“I can do that. Jarvis, please let me head Natasha off. I’ll need to know where she is. Then I can check on Tony.” Steve glanced towards the ceiling.

“Very well, Captain Rogers. Agent Romanoff is currently on the conference room level attempting to break into the stairwell. I have her stopped for now, but she is not amused. I believe she has suggested I do some things that are quite anatomically impossible, even if I had a body,” Jarvis replied with more than a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Steve called out as he hurried to intercept Natasha.

Bruce tried to shake the feeling and focus on something he could control, like those in the room who may actually need medical treatment. He walked up to the end of Coulson's bed to oversee the other nurses hooking the agent up to several monitoring machines and maintenance equipment.

The relief at knowing they had been successful was enough to bring him pretty close to some form of man-tears. Whoever took over after Bruce went down, mostly likely Tony and Bobby, given the nurse's current state, had literally pulled Phil Coulson out of some cosmic hell and brought him back to a new life here in Stark Tower. No one appeared more relieved than the SHIELD agent at his side. "Clint, how you doing?"

He looked over at the doctor. The archer didn’t let go of Phil’s hand throughout being examined by the nursing staff. “I’m tired, sore, and have a headache that could drop the Hulk. But I’m okay. Really.” Clint knew better than to skimp on his symptoms with Phil right there.

The archer was grateful when one of the nurses placed a cup of ice chips in his hand for Coulson.

“Here,” he said to Phil. “This should help. I’d imagine you feel you have a terminal case of dry mouth. I’ve been in that position enough times to know what it’s like.” He placed the spoon against Phil’s lips and could not help smiling again when his mentor obeyed and took the proffered ice.

“I hope that Natasha doesn’t end up kicking Cap’s ass,” Clint mentioned, smile widening.

“Now I’m torn.” Clint chuckled, amazed to be bantering with Coulson once again.

“I’ll get video footage later.”

**~*~**

**_Run._ **

It was the irrefutable command that Loki felt when the remainder of the Tesseract’s energy entered him. With it came a wave of nearly debilitating fear of immediate death if he did not do so.

His body acted instinctively, and after freeing himself from Thor's grasp, Loki found himself sprinting for the door in Stark Tower’s medical wing. Then Thor pinned his body to the marbled floor. He forced his own awareness to the surface and questioned that impending death. Death at the hand of whom?

As quick as thought is processed, he reassured himself that there was no Chitauri General here to terrify him into dizzying terror. No figure of Thanos in the distance, sitting on his throne of darkness and malevolence.

_**Fight or die.** _

Acting on the second command was as natural as breathing. He’d been fighting – sparring – with Thor since his first memory.

_**Fight to the death.** _

No.

Thor had rescued Loki from chains and brought him to salvation. And he’d given no other reason than sentiment.

No. Not to the death.

_**You are weak.** _

No, I am a god.

Loki hadn’t been able to do much with Thor’s hammer at his back. He laughed wickedly and fought and struggled enough until he dislodged them both. The enormous weight that came with the heart of a thousand the stars fell from him, and Loki spun, hit Thor twice, and then ran.

_**Escape or die.** _

Sweat burned his eyes. His heart pounded in his chest as if it would burst. Images blurred together – past, present, and imagined future.

The Allfather was coming for him with the wrath of a thousand years of hatred. He would command Muginn and Huginn to claw his eyes out. He would have Thor rip out his tongue and eat it. He would demand Frigga remove his beating heart from his chest with her fingers and destroy it under foot while laughing.

All of Asgard would laugh at him…

Loki’s body slammed hard into a closed door and he startled. He held his breath, hearing the faintest sound behind him down the hall which he came.

He could smell her. The Black Widow. The scent of sweat, pain, and rage preceded her.

_**She yearns for your death.** _

It would take nothing to snap her neck in his hand. She was small and mortal. He could taunt her with threats on Barton’s life, because the man was her weakness.

Imagines flooded his mind again, quick as lighting at first, slowing near the end – Clint Barton, afraid and so desperate but stayed by something deep and powerful inside his soul… Coulson, helpless, but the sole focus of friends gathered in a common noble purpose… Stark with his mechanical servant who followed behind him like some kind of sycophant… Common tools on a workbench laying about in a familiar and domestic manner… Schematics of the engine of a sports car as a future endeavor… A ring of spilled coffee on one of the few pieces of paper in Stark’s shop, his signature mere scribbles of black ink on the parchment.

Romanoff neared the corner. An unexpected pang of remorse stabbed at Loki’s heart. Barton was a remarkable mortal and had been a true ally. Romanoff’s death would affect him in a grievous way...

_**Kill or be killed.** _

Feeling sheer desperation, he turned to attack and chanted a spell under his breath. He held the gathering power in his right hand and gripped the ethereal form of an unholy mace in his fist. It would burrow dark magic the size of Thor’s fist into her chest and destroy her from within, leaving nothing but ash from one breath to the next.

Only, he couldn’t hold the form and it began to disintegrate almost as quickly as it was realized.

_**You are worthless.** _

No! Infernal panic surged through him, as if he was nothing more than a little boy, helpless at the feet of bullies and monsters who wanted nothing more than to destroy the few pieces of Loki that made him unique and valuable.

And then the lock on the door at his back clicked. He reached for the handle and nearly broke it with the force applied to open the doorway. He bolted inside and took the stairs three at a time, pausing only to frantically rattle the locked handles on each floor as he went up. None opened to him.

“Where are you leading me?” he snarled at Jarvis, knowing the artificial servant ruled the navigation of the Tower on Stark’s behalf.

“Enter through the next doorway and wait there,” Jarvis instructed.

“Wait there? No, not a chance,” Loki answered. He would cease for nothing. The desire to escape was overwhelming, even if had to fling himself off the top of the building.

He was being hunted in a building designed to trap enemies. Kill or be killed now became a logical answer.

Loki broke through the doorway of the next level into the short hallway leading to a more formal door. He burst through into the main part of the floor, a familiar place where he'd thrown Stark out of the window, unaware of the occasional stagger as he ricocheted off furniture and decor.

He strained to get to the wall of windows at the far end of the floor where the glass walls would part and Iron Man's landing pad awaited it's master's command.

Loki didn't know if Jarvis would open the doors for him to step out. He'd force his way out or die trying.

_**Escape.** _

_**Escape or die.** _

_**Escape or-** _

“Sir is on his way to you, Loki. He has requested that you wait here for him.”

Loki skidded to a halt as if he’d been tethered with an invisible chain and ran out of length.

Stark.

Tony Stark.

Cocky leering grin, keen mind, sharp wit. A kindred spirit…

A kiss as hot as the sun, the roughness of unshaven skin against his mouth and neck, a warm body pressed against him. Desire.

Loki stood there, frozen, unsure and confused. He was covered in a thin sheet of cold sweat, trembling like a bird trapped in a cage of thorns.

 

**~*~**

Jarvis kept Tony informed of Loki’s progress through the tower as he frantically went down the hallway to the elevator. He wanted to give the god a chance to realize no one was pursuing him, at least not for violence. The billionaire was confidant that Jarvis could keep everyone but Thor away. Even a homicidal Black Widow.

"Sir, Thor is requesting entry to the stairwell. I cannot prevent him from going where he pleases if he chooses to use force, but you can save on costly repairs if I simply unlock the doors for him."

“Do it J. I don’t want Thor to have to fight to get to this brother.” Tony stopped for a minute to catch his breath. He wiped a hand across his forehead. He knew he shouldn’t be sweating this much from just running down the fucking hallway. "Tell Thor to let me try, maybe I can cut down on any unnecessary bloodshed. I’ll figure the rest out as I go.”

Tony made it to the elevator and stepped inside as the doors seamlessly opened. He leaned against the wall and tried to stop the nausea as the car began to rise. He seemed to be doing everything Bruce warned him against -- too much exertion and stress had brought back his symptoms. Tony could not even remember when he’d last taken the medications Bruce gave him and his vision was beginning to blur.

 

**~*~**

 

Steve took off after Black Widow. They needed Loki if for no other reason than to help Tony stay alive. Plus, no one wanted to face the wrath of a Thunder God. He got her location from Jarvis and cautiously approached the door to the stairwell. She was currently stuck on the conference room level. She seemed to be arguing with someone as she irritably shook her hand.

“Jarvis, shock me one more time," Natasha snarled as she glared at the electronic lock, "and I swear I’ll find where stark has your brain located and pull the plug.”

“I’m sorry, Agent Romanoff, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Jarvis replied in a creepily-pleasant voice.

“It’s a pity you got Stark’s sense of humor but you don’t understand, Loki is dangerous. I have to do this.” Natasha hated wasting time like this but Stark’s A.I. controlled all the doors. Unless she decided to break a window and take her chances outside there was little she could do.

“It is you who does not understand Agent Romanoff," Jarvis, sounding again like an English butler. "Loki is a threat to you, and I do not believe you would win in a direct confrontation.”

“Oh, and Stark is any safer going after that possessed lunatic?” Natasha was practically seething with frustration. She wanted to hit something badly.

“Loki and Mr. Stark seem to have a rapport. Other than Thor, he has the best chance of aiding Loki. I’d rather you not intimidate sir’s only chance of survival at the present time.” Jarvis would protect his creator.

Natasha sighed heavily. “You might as well come out, Steve. I know you’re there.” She turned as the Captain came up the corridor.

“You really shouldn’t go after them. It will make things worse. We have to trust Tony and Thor to handle it.” Steve said, trying sound convincing. He knew he’d failed miserably when Natasha laughed. It did not sound like she was amused at all.

“Trust them? Are you kidding?” Natasha crossed her arms across her chest and frowned.

“We don’t have much of a choice. This is Tony’s Tower and he can lock us out if we fight him. Jarvis will only help if he thinks Tony is in danger. Maybe you should go back and check on Clint? They would probably like you there.” Steve was trying to be a diplomatic as possible. But if Agent Romanoff proved to be difficult, he would make her return to the med bay. The last thing he needed was for her to confront Loki as Tony was trying to get through to him.

Natasha looked at Captain Rogers carefully, as if assessing his threat potential.

Steve tried not to shift uncomfortably under her intense scrutiny. The super soldier breathed a sigh of relief when the Widow finally turned and left. He noticed her slipping a particularly nasty looking knife back into a holster at the small of her back.

Eyes narrowed, she looked back at Steve. “If Loki shows his face anywhere near Phil or Clint still under the influence of that damned Tesseract, all bets are off. I won’t even give him the chance to blink.” Then she stalked away.

Steven nodded in complete understanding. “Jarvis, where is Tony right now?”

“Sir is in the elevator outside his living quarters. Loki is currently there and in distress, and if I am not mistaken, he is contemplating forcing the doors open to sir’s landing pad.”

“Shit. I should be there for Tony as back up. Where is Thor?”

“He is in the stairwell heading towards their location. I have locked down the elevators as per sir’s request but I can open the stairwell door if you like.”

“Thank you Jarvis. Maybe I can meet Thor up there and stop anything before it gets out of hand.” Between Steve and Thor, they had the best chance of controlling an unruly Loki, if it came to that.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but it was a good stopping point. Thanks for reading!

When the elevator doors slid open, Tony’s composure fled. It was ironic, really, to be here again with Loki, considering that the last time they both occupied this floor, with the Tesseract on board, Tony was rudely thrown out the window. 

It was one of Loki’s more demented moments. Déjà vu, anyone? He could see the trickster lingering in front of the glass doors that led to Iron Man’s landing pad. Even though the Asgardian’s back was to him, Tony could practically feel the tension radiating off Loki. And he was still far across the room. 

“J, where is Thor?” he asked quietly, although Jarvis’ reply gave everything away. 

“Thor is currently outside the stairwell door to this level. Captain Rogers is also on his way up. Shall I let them in?”

“It’s not like you can keep 'em out, so sure, unlock the door.”

Still, Tony lingered in the doorway, wondering if there would be a repeat performance between the god and himself. Just how much of Loki wanted this kind of power and carelessness again? “Uh, hey, Loki? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m here now. No attacking the nice billionaire, okay?”

Finally, Tony stepped in the room, hoping that he’d gotten it right, that the Loki he’d gotten to know over the last few days was still in there somewhere and wouldn’t betray what trust they’d started to develop between them.

The dark prince spun on his heels, as if he hadn’t been aware until now, that he wasn’t alone. His body language clearly telegraphed that an attack was imminent, but then there was a glimpse of recognition. Loki narrowed his eyes and studied the man who'd appeared. He swallowed once, his mouth dry, words failing him. Confusion clouded his mind so he scowled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to try to clear the path to logical thought.

The click of a door closing in the distance caught Loki's attention. Thor appeared at the far end of the room, Mjolnir at the ready. His other hand came away from his side, bloody. Thor paused in his advance, looked at the wet smear of red on his palm and then returned his gaze to his brother. "Do you remember what we spoke of, Loki, if our first plan failed and we needed to sacrifice to do the right thing?"

"Clearly,” he replied, “I can hardly remember my own identity right now, much less any conversation involving what sounds like will be my sacrifice." Loki exhaled loudly in frustration and clenched his fists at his side until his knuckles were white. He knew there had been a plan, but he just couldn't quite remember the details. 

His eyes found Stark again and he stared hard, knowing this man was the anchor to his sanity. He just couldn’t make the connection as to why. "What are you doing here?" 

Tony took a deep breath and bravely entered the main portion of the room, side stepping the Loki-shaped hole still in the middle of the floor. _Okay, Stark. Time for a little brutal honesty:_

“I’m here because I’m someone who gives a damn whether or not you decide to take a header off this building,” he said with conviction. “I’m here because I want that alien device to quit fucking with you, and I’m here because I want it out of my Tower, out of my life, and off my fucking planet.”

Tony stopped when he was just a few feet away from Loki, brown eyes confidently meeting Tesseract blue.

Loki lowered his chin, but his eyes stayed level on Stark. The man's reasons seemed sincere enough, and the first two held such sentiment for Loki's well-being. He wanted to believe. He just couldn't imagine a scenario where it could work between them.

_Lies. You know he is not capable of understanding a mind as complex and evil as yours._

Loki winced, as if physically struck by the thoughts running rampant through his mind. He quieted his mind, searched his for true intentions, and found it in Thor’s careful approach. The blood stained armor was a reminder of how wrong this could all turn out for Stark. 

"If you'd but provide me with transportation,” he nearly begged of the Midgardian, “I would leave right now and rid you of this evil force that threatens to wreak havoc upon your house. Wouldn’t that be much simpler for everyone?" 

“Nope,” was Tony’s blunt answer. “Sorry, but that’s not an option. I’m not about to let you have free reign over the city while you are obviously being screwed over by a sentient square of blue energy. Which, by the way, is really starting to piss me the hell off.”

_Kill him._

Tony's words had barely left his mouth when Loki fisted the man's shirt in his hands and slammed him against the nearest surface. It happened to be the bar. Glasses shattered and amber whiskey spilled over, wasted on anger. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw Thor raise Mjolnir. He spun in defense, taking Tony with him, and strategically putting the mortal between himself and his brother. 

This was almost laughable for Tony. It was like the shower scene all over again, only much more ominous. He wrapped his hands around Loki’s wrists below his hands that still gripped his shirt tightly. “You don’t want to do this. I know you’re still in there somewhere. Fight it.”

Loki laughed then, a thin sound, and Thor let out a growl of frustration. The brothers locked gazes, waiting for the other to make the first move.

It wasn't until Loki looked back at the Midgardian that he felt anything but the thrill of the game. He could feel the man's heart pounding is his chest, see the lines of strain around his eyes, the sweat beading on his brow. Then he remembered the poison in Stark’s veins, the reason the mortal was now infected, and then, dare he think it, he remembered the compassion Stark had shown him.

He could also sense the energy from the arc reactor, and the Tesseract didn’t like that at all. 

Tony could feel the Asgardian struggling. It tore at him in ways he was not expecting. “Remember who the real enemy is, Loki. I know you want to call your own shots again, so how about you start right now?” 

Loki closed his eyes. Their bodies were so close that he could feel feverish heat radiating between them. It was then that he knew it: This mortal, whose personality had such a strong effect on Loki’s person, would be his undoing. 

_Kill him or be killed._

No. Not Stark. I refuse. 

"No one controls me," he declared. 

Loki efficiently tossed his hostage aside, only this time, it wasn't towards the windows. 

He knew Thor would follow, so Loki stalked towards the doors to the landing pad, gathering the last of his energy within him in his hands. He shattered the doors with an explosion of blue light and heat before striding down the walkway over the city, wind billowing around him.

Not expecting to be flung away so suddenly, Tony landed hard on the floor, breath knocked out of him. His head swam, and he struggled to get back to his feet. Then Steve was there.

“Tony, be still. Let them handle it. You’re in no shape to help anymore,” the captain ordered as he helped the man to sit. 

The super soldier had entered the room just behind Thor. He’d wanted to rush to the billionaire’s side when Loki had Tony in his grasp but one look from Thor had him waiting, against his better judgment. It would have been so easy for Loki to just snap Tony’s neck, and it had taken all his trust to wait in the wings and let Tony and Thor handle this.

Now, he had to keep Tony from trying to go to the trickster.

"Stay here," Thor had commanded before following behind Loki. The energy in the air crackled. Thor's hammer left a trail of blue-white light that fell slowly to the ground like the tail of a comet. "This ends now, brother."

Once outside, the God of Thunder began to stir the wind. Dark clouds gathered faster than a natural occurrence. They converged over Stark Tower. The spire at the top became the center of the storm's rotation. Lightning struck a nearby rod and momentarily lit the Tower in a flash of piercing white.

Loki stood in the center of the small landing pad. His back was towards his brother, but he knew Thor was there. Loki tipped his head up and closed his eyes, smelling the ozone in the air. It was so familiar. The adrenaline that coursed through him felt as if he was going into battle again with Thor and the Warriors Three.

But this time, it was not so. He'd been at the receiving end of Mjolnir a few times when his brother had enough of his prodding jests, but he'd never faced the true wrath of Thor's hammer, as did their enemies.

He knew how this would end. He now remembered that it had been their back up plan if all else failed. Somehow, Loki knew it would come to this. 

It would hurt, like being torn to pieces and bound together at the same time, but he was ready. He could feel the last of the Tesseract's energy scramble to flee and look for a way of escape. It tried to bleed into the electronics at Loki's feet, the mechanics that manipulated the shape of the Iron man suit, but Loki contained it, _finally_ feeling in control instead of the puppet on the string.

He turned then to face Thor and found his brother watching expectantly. The air around them was charged. Static sparked and combusted around them with the stirring of the wind.

"Well, I’m waiting," Loki stated, arms held out in surrender before letting them fall to his sides. “End this, brother.”

He offered the smallest of smiles, appreciating the hesitation before Thor electrocuted him and most likely sent him to his death. His brother was offering one last opportunity to find another way, but Loki could think of none. It was a small gesture, but it spoke louder than any words could between them. “There is no other way,” he assured one last time. 

Thor winced, clearly pained to deliver such suffering. “Brother…”

“Do this now, before I change my mind.” 

Thor finally nodded. He raised his arm and stood unmoving as a thick column of white lightning found Mjolnir, flowing through Thor. He charged the weapon with natural energy combined with what he'd taken from Stark's miniature arc reactor.

Loki tensed and paled, feeling the pangs of fear, the last instincts of survival. Oddly, it was Stark's face that fluttered through his mind. He felt regret. For what, Loki wasn't certain. A future they'd never get to explore? That was a silly notion, really, but it pained him somewhere inside to contemplate the idea. 

His eyes searched the windows beyond Thor and found Stark, who was now being cared for by the Captain. 

Tony locked eyes with Loki. The look on the trickster’s face rocked him to the core. He recognized sadness, resignation, and even regret. 

“Let go! Let go!” Tony struggled to get closer to the landing pad, to try to reassure Loki that somehow this was the right thing to do, but Steve would not loosen his fucking grip. Then the room lit up with blinding light and Tony’s fight left him.

“Leave him in peace!” Thor shouted. He aimed Mjolnir at Loki and discharged the mixed energies. His brother’s eyes flashed Tesseract blue one last time before the lightning hit his chest. If he were to lose Loki, it would be this way - with honor and dignity. Loki was a Prince of Asgard, and in Thor's eyes, anyone who sacrificed himself for the greater good was worthy of praise. That Loki would choose to do so for the very same Midgardians he'd harmed tore at Thor's heart but filled him with pride he rarely felt for his little brother.

Loki was blinded with light so bright and agonizing it stole his breath away. It contorted his body into writhing misery. He hovered in mid-air, his body jerking and twisting uncontrollably, caught in a razor-sharp web of thrumming power.

Thor ceased the powerful barrage only after he was certain he could feel no traces of the Tesseract in the flow of energy between himself and Loki's body. Only then did he relent and allow the clouds to dissipate.

Only then did he feel the full impact of what he'd done. Loki's body dropped out of the air like dead weight, limp and unmoving. Mjolnir slipped from his hand to land solidly on the landing pad’s walkway. He ran to his brother's side, lifting Loki's upper body in his arms. 

“Damn it, Steve. Let go!” There was no way Tony was going to get loose. Hell, Tony was not sure he could even get up if he wanted to.

"Brother, please," Thor whispered. He placed his palm against Loki's chest but felt nothing. Time began to still, and Thor's vision clouded with moisture. He looked at the sky as the clouds parted, at the buildings around him, and felt the eyes of his Midgardian allies on him. But no one came to help Loki. 

"Father," he cried, but every prayer he could think of died on his lips, his breath coming too quickly and his throat closing up. He looked down at Loki again, the realization hitting him hard that he had done this. He'd been so sure he could carry out this plan. It had been Loki's idea. It should've worked. So why wasn’t Loki breathing again?

How could he face Frigga and tell her he'd killed her baby boy?

Then there was a faint noise, a simple gasp for air. 

"Hel... says she's not... happy with you..."

Thor startled at the sound of his brother's voice. It took him a few moments to comprehend the barely audible words. 

Loki opened his eyes and a closed them again, as if they were too heavy for him. The corner of his mouth turned up the slightest bit and he coughed weakly again.

"You know, you've never been her favorite uncle."

"I'm her only uncle," Thor managed to reply. 

His head fell back in relief and he started to laugh. He pulled Loki into his chest and cradled the dark head against his shoulder. If he lingered a bit and rocked his brother against him a few times, he'd never say, nor would he admit to the tears that escaped his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.


	20. Chapter 20

Steve had watched in wide-eyed awe the spectacle of Loki and Thor and their fight with the Tesseract. 

During the battle for New York, he’d not been able to truly appreciate the power that Thor wielded. It was undoubtedly impressive to attract, or was it create, lightning, not to mention survive it flowing freely through you. These guys were definitely not from around here. 

Then there was Loki. There was wonder in the dark prince too. The fact that Loki surrendered himself willingly seemed so unlike the selfish, unhinged invader of just a few months ago. Cap felt as if maybe a corner had been turned in the life of the two-otherworldly beings before him. There were so many more vastly destructive things Loki could have done than simply to flee. He had not attacked or tried to destroy anything other than a door that barred his way. 

Now truly free of the taint from the Tesseract, maybe Loki could work towards redeeming himself. As far as Steve was concerned, Loki was well on his way.

“Okay Steve,” Tony said while gasping, “Not that I’m minding the bro-hug here, but my ribs are creaking.”

The Captain looked down and immediately let the billionaire go. He flushed and mumbled an apology. 

“It’s the whole protective thing. I got it,” Tony appeased. He stood up and pulled away from Steve, managing to stagger as far as the ruined doorway before nearly collapsing again. Again, Rogers was right there with him, keeping the Stark heir out of the worst of the glass littering the balcony.

“Take it easy, Tony. It’s been a rough morning.”

“Shit. Understatement of the year.” Tony felt like his heart had nearly stopped when he saw Loki simply give up and let his brother remove the Tesseract from his body. The results could have been deadly. Tony knew he’d never forget the resigned expression on Loki’s face as he waited for Thor to essentially electrocute him. Loki hadn’t expected to survive, but he did. 

Tony wasn’t sure where to go from here with the Asgardian, but he was grateful he’d have to figure it out. 

“Come on, Tony. We need to get inside.” Steve shivered as the cool breeze from the wrecked doorway flowed over him. 

“Love to Cap, but the room seems to be spinning. I think I’ll just stay here until it stops.” Tony tried to breathe through his nose to stave off the imminent attack of nausea. “Don’t tell Bruce, but it looks like I over did it.”

Steve ignored Tony’s token protest as he was carefully picked up and carried inside.

Tony’s hands dug into Steve’s arms as he was lifted. Fucking poison! He was panting by the time Steve laid him carefully on the long sofa. The itching had become such a constant symptom that Tony had largely ignored. Clawing his own skin off would not have been a Dr. Banner-approved thing to do.

“How’s Loki? Is he alright,” Tony asked, as he tried to sit up. A hand to his chest stopped him.

“Do you even know how to be still? Thor will take care of his brother. You need to rest." Steve hated the paleness of Tony’s skin and the slight flush on his cheeks. He laid his hand on Tony’s forehead and frowned. "Jarvis, can you inform everyone that Loki has been subdued and the energy, I assume, is now gone. But I’m afraid we need Dr. Banner up here. Tony’s had a relapse.” 

“I will inform the relevant parties immediately. Captain Rogers, I have detected that sir’s temperature has risen to 102.4. I will convey this to Dr. Banner. Perhaps you should move him down to the med bay.” 

“Fuck no! I’m staying here,” Tony protested, eyes wandering out to the landing pad.

Steve sighed heavily, appreciating how deep Stark stubbornness ran from generation to generation. “Fine, but when Bruce gets here, we’ll do as he says. Even if that means dragging you down to the med bay.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by a ‘Captain No-Bullshit’ glare. It was extraordinarily effective.

~*~

Bruce looked up at the ceiling, listening to Jarvis relay the latest happenings.

“Is it always like this?” Bobby asked.

"Only when we're in the same square mile of each other," the doctor replied. "I think we cause some kind of imbalance in the laws of nature and it vomits us up all over the rest of the rest of humanity. Welcome to our world," he replied, patting the nurse on the back.

He left Coulson's room, heading quickly towards the pharmaceutical office. He peered out the windows as he strode quickly down the hallway, watching the dark threatening clouds dissipate. Bruce knew shit had gotten real upstairs, as this was the trademark End of Days look that came with Thor's wrath, but he didn't know how or why. He only knew that the threat from the Tesseract was gone. That much was apparent from the simultaneous physical and verbal confirmation of relief from Coulson and Barton.

This could've turned out to be a good day in Stark Tower. They were rare. And he would have pinched himself if not for Jarvis being the proverbial reality check. Yes, they'd revived a surprisingly-healthy Coulson, and yes, apparently the Tesseract was gone for good, but then the news came that Tony had relapsed. It was a predictable outcome of the morning, given the extreme circumstances. But that soured the rest of the fuzzy, pleasant feelings of achievement Bruce toyed with. 

It was like Fate wouldn't allow the balance between good and bad to be tipped in the favor of good even a millimeter. They knew how to deal with unimaginable amounts of bad, but when would they have their opportunity to bask in peacetime?

Bruce collected the items he needed and gathered them in his arms, dropping a few things along the way. He used his mouth to hold a small bottle of medication while his hands struggled to keep the rest bundled. He stepped into the elevator, knowing Jarvis would take care of the rest.

The AI was really helpful that way.

He wasn't sure what he'd find when he stepped out into the living quarters. It was one of his favorite floors, where he'd beaten the ever-living shit out of Loki in the Hulk's form. He could stand to do it again but everyone would protest and it wasn’t worth the argument. He wondered how Loki would try to worm his way into his good graces. Curing Tony would go far.

When the elevator doors opened, he stepped into the suite slowly. Surprisingly, everything but a shattered window and some glasses by the bar looked in place and undisturbed. He was eager to get the full story or see video playback as soon as Tony was treated.

The billionaire laying on the couch looking pale and fragile. Not a good look for the playboy. Steve hovered nearby, arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. 

“Look, Steve, I’m fine. I just need to get up to adjust the Tower’s reactor. I can make it so that it now repels the Tesseract’s energy. That way, we’ll be safe here. I can rest after that.”

“That sounds noble, but you wouldn’t make it to the other end of the room, Stark.”

Bruce nodded his hello to a very stern-looking Cap. The doctor knelt by the couch in front of Tony, dropping the supplies onto the man’s lap to see if he'd get any sort of response. He did, which was a good sign. "What are your symptoms, Tony?"

“Aggravation at the moment,” he said, eyeing the super soldier standing guard. “Just give me something that will allow me to do my work and then I’ll rest.” 

Tony tried to sit up but couldn’t. There seemed to be an immovable object on his chest and it appeared to be attached to Steve’s arm.

“Dr. Banner,” Rogers began, “Tony is dizzy again and possibly nauseated. He has a temperature this time. It hasn’t seemed to have affected his stubbornness though.” Steve shook his head at Tony as he tried to sit up again. “Will you just lie still? You’re worse than Buck…”

"Okay, yeah," Bruce said, in summary to everything Steve had just mentioned. He purposefully ignored the rest from Tony for now. He was sure it was important, something about the arc reactor and the Tower and the Tesseract, but it would wait a few minutes. 

He tore open a heat pack with his teeth and applied the first one to the welts that had popped up again on Tony's arm. "Just take a minute to catch your breath, Tony. You're pale as Loki's lilly white ass right now and sweating like you've just run a marathon."

“Do we really need comparisons to Loki’s ass?”

“Sorry, Cap,” Bruce said with a smile. He selected a syringe and uncapped it with his teeth. He had a bottle of clear liquid in the other that he tipped upside down, inserting the needle into it and drawing up a specific amount. "This is going to help with both the nausea and dizziness. I was able to convert it into liquid form last night when I needed a distraction from Coulson's impending doom. It's your fever I'm worried about, Tony.”

“I’m to be a pincushion now? Terrific.”

"I’m a good stick, relax,” Bruce hushed, with affection of course. “Where's Loki? Can he give us any help with this yet?"

 

"Thor is bringing Loki inside,” Cap explained. “Doesn’t look like he’s conscious, or barely so. Not well enough to give us information to help Tony at this point.”

“Great.”

"Shit, can we just get this over with?” Tony said, feeling agitation creep back in. “I have things I’ve got to do.” 

There was so much Bruce still hadn't had the opportunity to tell them yet about the poison. Other more dire things had cropped up and trumped what should've been the first hurdle they all cleared - namely Tony Stark's health.

And Loki still hadn't made an appearance in the lab to help with any kind of antidote. From what Bruce had discovered in the short time he had been observing the remnants of the leather bindings, he was extremely anxious about it.

None of this was conversation for the moment though, as it would cause distress for them all, and right now, Bruce needed Tony to calm down. The man was like a bundle of wildly nervous energy that needed an outlet or he'd combust like a supernova.

"Okay, wait. I don't know what the hell happened in here with Thor and Loki, but Jarvis advised us that the Tesseract was gone. Coulson and Barton all but confirmed that too. Isn't the threat over and done with? Why is anything still required of you?"

“It’s not just Loki, Barton, and Coulson that were affected by the Tesseract. Loki had others under his control, those who are still out there. This Tower and the energy that powers it could be used by anyone still under its influence. I need to change it like I did with the reactor that powered the defibrillator. Until then, it’s not safe.” Tony winced a little as Bruce injected him. He felt like hell but he wasn’t lying when he told Bruce he had things to do.

Bruce's ears started ringing the more Tony disclosed this new information about Loki's army of human zombies he'd created with the Tesseract's help. Ah, so there was the Other Guy. He wasn't gone after all, maybe he'd just been a little dazed.

Why in God's name were they all blind to the unbelievable damage this Asgardian bastard of a prince did, and could still do, to everything they loved in this world? Maybe it was just him. Maybe he was crazy and … no. Nope. He couldn't even swallow that line of thinking.

"Okay," he said, in a way that meant he was so over this conversation and had nothing to say that wouldn't ignite another screaming match. He folded up a piece of gauze and put it on top of the tiny hole in Tony's vein, then placed a band aid over and folded Tony's elbow to keep pressure on the small puncture until it coagulated and clotted.

He stood up and handed Steve two more packets of self-generated heating pads. "Put these on his arm, would you?"

He had to walk away. He couldn't even think of opening his mouth or he'd Hulk out and lose his mind. He was heading for the door when he paused, turned, and took the long way around the couch towards the broken glass and pathway that led out to where Thor was still sitting with Loki.

One punch, maybe two, three possibly. But in the Hulk's form, that's all it would take the break the fuck out of the landing platform and send Thor and Loki to the street below. He was seriously thinking of it, not stopping the clip of his stride as he approached Thor, as if he was eager to walk up and kick him in his face.

His skin began to turn greenish and the buzz in his ears drowned out almost everything except for the whir of distant engines and the hum that came with incoming aircraft. 

It was a QuinJet, decidedly SHIELD in nature. 

"Are you muthafuckers kidding me?" came the voice through the public address system on the aircraft. As the jet hovered, the Vulcan gun lowered and locked onto the Asgardians.

"Oh, god. Really?" Bruce said, and all his green faded. He felt like he'd just gotten caught by the principal while looking at porn in the boy's bathroom. Then the PA system actually screeched when Fury yelled Stark's name.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! What now? This is all I need.” Tony sat up and attempted to get off the couch. The couch however, objected and conveniently moved...or at least it seemed to before Steve pushed Tony back down.

Steve frowned and held up his index finger and pointed at Tony. “You stay. I’ll go out.”

“What am I, a dog now?”

“If it gets you to behave. Maybe you do need a leash,” Cap replied. He scowled until Tony laid still and petulantly crossed his arms over his chest.

“Gee, Cap I didn’t know you were that kind of soldier. But if you ever want to give it a try...” 

“Shut up and stay here,” Cap ordered, walking outside to deal with Fury.

“Jarvis, remind me to make an EMP Generator for the tower ok? I’m tired of being dropped in on,” Tony mused as he scratched.

“Sir, I am not so sure that would be a good idea. You might start an incident.”

“Well fine, I’ll secede from the union then. Stark Tower can be the sovereign state of me. Then I can kick everyone the hell out of my airspace.”

“Sir, I believe you are delirious,” Jarvis deadpanned.

“You’ll be the first one to go. I seriously get no respect. Dummy can be my ambassador.”

“Of course, because Dummy is so representative of your individuality.”

“Jarvis,” Tony cautioned, both loving and hating the wit and intelligence in his AI.

“If I could redirect you to the potentially catastrophic situation outside, sir?”

“Yeah. Fuck... this is going to go all kinds of wrong.” 

 

Thor stood upon hearing the rapidly approaching jet. He tossed Loki over his shoulder like a bag of sugar and reached out for Mjolnir. It darted to his hand like a magnet drawn to its mate, barely missing Bruce's right leg.

"What are you doing?" Bruce muttered. "Uh, okay, umm, this isn't going to end well for someone."

Thor stood, whirling Mjolnir at his side, staring down the pilot and Fury in the cockpit.

Bruce wasn't sure if it was an aggressive move or a means to escape. Either wouldn't be good for the interplanetary relationship between Asgard and earth. 

"Uh... Tony?" Bruce called out, knowing there was not much he could say at the moment except SHOOT, but again, it wouldn't be perceived well.

And he did like Thor, so...

“Shit.” Despite his promise to Steve, Tony sat up. He needed to get Loki out of here and now. He pulled out his phone and dialed one of the few people he could trust with such a heavy burden.

“Happy? Yeah, 'm fine. Just listen, okay? I want you to get the most nondescript car you can get your hands on. Steal one if you have to. Don’t link it in any way to Stark Industries. I have a couple of passengers I need taken to... shit. Where? Uh, take them to the mansion. Yes, the one on Fifth Avenue. Yeah, I know, I hate the place. Just do it, okay? No questions. I’m depending on you. Just meet them in the parking garage as soon as you can get here. Thanks, Happy. I mean it.” 

Tony hung up and called out to the men on the landing pad. “Get ‘em inside. I’ve got a plan.”

“Why am I sure I’ll not like this plan," Steve asked, rhetorically. 

“Go back inside, doctor.” The Captain nodded at Bruce reassuringly. “I’ll get Thor and Loki.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“Uhh, not sure.” 

“Until then, I’ll stay. If Fury starts shooting, the Hulk will shield you.” 

Steve didn’t like it, but Bruce was right. World War II had shown him that he still took bullets like any other human. He healed so rapidly that bullets rarely did more than slow him down for a spell and cause a lot of pain. But it was nice, for a change, for someone to have his back. 

“Okay, but let’s not let this escalate to the point of open fire.” Steve had to get the Asgardian to stand down before anyone did anything they would regret. Cautiously, he placed a hand on the Thunder God’s shoulder. “Thor, Tony has an idea. He’d like you and Loki to come inside so he can explain. It will give Fury some time to calm down. Hopefully, our explanation satisfying him enough to lower any weapons he’s got trained on us.”

“Lower your weapon,” Thor demanded of the jet, not backing down at all.

“Fury, back off," Steve yelled, stepping between Thor and the hovering aircraft. "You have no idea what’s going on. We can explain, but pushing Thor into a battle is an option none of us want.” 

It was essentially a stand off. Steve stayed ready, muscles tensed, waiting for someone to make the first move. Bruce was decidedly green beside him. 

Thor was a heartbeat away from a fight. He'd been pushed around and backed into too many proverbial corners over the last few days. He was itching for a battle, but he had no desire to start one with the people of Midgard. Even with Director Fury.

And his Midgardian friends were still standing with him. Even with the damage Loki had done to their planet. 

He could bring no more harm to them. So he quieted his weapon but still held it tightly. 

When he looked at the Captain, he saw the quiet plea in his eyes. This was a man trying to negotiate peace, and that was something he could respect. "I do not doubt your intentions, Captain, but you cannot guarantee our safety. Our arrangement is with Tony Stark. Still, I appreciate your gesture and for now, I will yield."

Thor glared at the gun turret pointed at him but turned away, somewhat confident that Fury would not betray the patriotic Captain.

Bruce and Steve both physically slumped in relief. They quickly followed the Asgardian into the living area, leaving Fury to land the QuinJet on the larger pad outside.

"Tony Stark, what is your plan?" Thor asked, immediately upon entering the room. 

He was relieved when everyone made it back inside. Tony would have joined them on the terrace but there was no way in hell he wanted Fury to see him collapse. As it was, the back of the sofa was the only thing keeping Tony on his feet.

“My plan... right. Thor, I have my chauffeur waiting in the parking garage. He is going to take you elsewhere in the city to my mansion. You’ll have the whole run of the place. Loki can recuperate, and I can try and calm things down here, or rather Steve can calm things down here. It’s too public with everyone dropping in to say hello.”

“Sir, Director Fury is enthusiastically requesting entrance and quickly compromising my lock down codes. Should I grant him entry?”

“Well, I imagine we should tell him Coulson’s awake. We don’t have a choice there. He’ll break in anyway." Tony leaned heavily against the sofa, hoping he didn’t slide down the side of it. "Stall him for a while, Jarvis. We need to get Thor and Loki on their way. Just let me know if he starts shooting at the lock.”

“Of course, sir. I shall offer him a game of Flappy Bird. That should do the trick.” 

“Okay,” Tony concluded, so done with the snark. “So what do you say Thor, buddy? Care for a little road trip?” 

"I do not know how to thank you," Thor said after a moment of disbelief. Trusting them with another place to rest and recuperate, and without the aggravation of trying to keep Loki away from the other Avengers, was a gift from the gods. And Thor was more than happy that Loki and Tony Stark wouldn't be together to explore more of the toxic chemistry developing between them. 

"Where do I meet him?" Thor asked, striding towards the elevator.

“Take this to my garage level. Jarvis will direct you the rest of the way,” Tony replied rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"Wait," Bruce said, trailing after Thor. "What about Tony? Loki has to do something, no, Loki has to a lot of things to help me fix this. He can't be given a free ticket to Maui where he can sip pina coladas all day while Tony's body is breaking down and turning into tarry sludge.”

Steve carefully placed his hand on Bruce’s back. “We all care about what is happening to Tony, but Loki will not do him any good from a SHIELD jail cell. I’m not too sure I want the doctors there to get a hold of Tony either.”

Bruce knew Rogers was right, but it felt too much like a reward and not a lot of conscious responsibility on Loki’s part. “He has to help with this.”

“And he will,” Thor said, “when he regains his strength.” 

“Tony, can you set up some way that Dr. Banner can talk to Loki, some kind of conference using computers?” He got a dramatic eye roll in affirmative, so he continued. “Okay, so right now, we need to calm everyone down, and getting Loki out of here will go a long way towards that. I will keep an eye on things, doctor. There is no way Loki will be taking any sort of a vacation while Tony is sick. I won’t let that happen.”

“So, you drank the Kool-Aid. Great,” Bruce muttered, rubbing his eyes in frustration. He wasn’t convinced but he had no choice. He could literally hear Fury cursing outside. They were out of time. “Alright, Cap. On your word.”

“On my word,” he nodded. Steve wasn’t sure when he became Loki’s advocate, but it had just happened. Tony looked just as surprised. Surprised and thankful.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More FrostIron to come. Yes, we will earn that explicit rating in the upcoming chapters. The core of this fan fiction is Tony and Loki but we wanted to give all the characters their own stories as well.

Clint knew he should do something, anything to help with the shit storm that was currently happening. At the very least, he should go after Natasha before she did something foolish. The archer knew first hand what Loki was capable of, how strong he was. He had to trust that Captain America could rein her in, or at the very least, stop his partner from taking on Loki alone.

But Clint was right where he needed to be, next to a living, breathing, awake Phil Coulson. He had so much to say to the SHIELD agent but Clint couldn't find the words. What if Phil didn’t feel the same way? They’d gone from just handler and agent to friends, but did it go beyond that?

Clint didn’t have the best track record in relationships. Truthfully, he had precious little experience with the whole dating thing and being with just one person. 

Sex? Now that was something he knew a lot about. But add in feelings and Clint had no fucking clue what he was supposed to do about them.

At one point during his musings, a nurse shoved some pills at him. He took them without protest. None of it mattered when all his attention was taken up by one Phil Coulson. Sure, the archer was curious about what was happening in the rest of the Tower, but the fact that it was still standing made it obvious that someone was handling Loki.

Wasn’t that a kick in the head? A being Clint hoped to never have to cross paths with again was right here in Stark Tower, and under Tony’s protection, no less. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Loki did help save Coulson, and that did earn him some brownie points. He had been just as fucked over as they all were by the Chitauri and their master, but still, this was Loki.

Clint could not help his shudder at that point, but in his opinion, Loki was still nutty as a fruitcake and totally unpredictable. He hadn't spent all that time with the god and learned nothing. Clint was a quick study and Loki was no exception. He wanted to keep Coulson as far away from that mastermind as possible. How to do that would keep his mind occupied from the obvious - his pesky feelings. 

~*~

There were important things to say, essential matters to discuss, and critical actions necessary that needed immediate attention. Coulson was used to having time to think compulsively about the future.  
Now, he was ready to act. Minutes had already been wasted, but he stilled his ambitions long enough to pause for the man sitting beside him. It was all thanks Agent Clint Barton that he’d have time now to carry out those intentions and desires schemed during a blue-tinged slumber.

Of course, Phil’s plans would take a far less violent, less psychopathic approach than the Tesseract persuasively encouraged. His short-term focus was a new direction for Fury’s Avengers Initiative. Coulson had a plan for each member, and he was confident in his abilities as their handler to be the advocate for their personal ambitions and ideals. They’d no longer be puppets – not any of them.

And that was particularly true of Agent Clint Barton. They had so much to discuss between them, personally and professionally.

Phil turned his head, his vision clearing to near perfect acuity. He looked poignantly at their linked hands, enjoying the warmth, the fit of their fingers, and the strength in their unity. This was highly unusual for handler and agent, or even for them, specifically. That didn't mean he found it unpleasant. Quite the opposite.

And there had been that declaration of love... The one Clint had no idea Phil heard.

Phil made to sit up, feeling curious about his physical condition, and immediately missing the contact with Barton when he had to use both hands to right himself.

“And where do you think you're going?” One of the nurses stood beside the bed, supporting his elbow with a hand. “You shouldn’t be able to move a lot, much less sit up after spending this long in a coma.”

“Super soldier serum,” Coulson explained, voice sounding rough as sandpaper.

“R-Really?”

"Heh, do I look like Captain America to you?" Coulson urged, face sporting a sarcastic smirk. He winced while rolling his shoulders and tilting his head from side to side. “I don't feel weakness as much as I feel stiff from inactivity. I just feel rusty.”

“Liar,” Clint managed to whisper without moving his mouth. It’s interesting what talents one picked up in the circus.

Coulson raised an eyebrow but appeared amused.

“I am going to get Dr. Banner,” the nurse said. “Will you at least stay in bed and not try to walk away until he examines you, sir?”

“Sure,” Phil promised, already flexing his knees and testing the muscles in his calves and quads. “Better hurry though. I have an agenda.”

Clint knew that determined look on his handler’s face. He pitied anyone who got in Phil’s way. He helped Coulson to sit up properly. He didn’t think twice about the supportive hand on the agent’s back. The archer winced at the feeling of the scarring under his fingers through the thin hospital pajamas.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I know, I know. I’m the one who conceals his injuries,” Clint replied to Coulson's raised eyebrow, “I’d want out of here too but not at the expense of your recovery.”

Despite the appearance that Phil could sit up on his own, Clint just couldn’t take his hand from the man's back. The archer was studiously avoiding the elephant in the room, namely his emotions. He needed the contact. After the lingering effects of the Tesseract were finally gone, Clint still felt somewhat lost. Coulson represented something solid, something real he could latch on to.

“You said something about an agenda, sir?”

“Clint, look at me,” he asked, voice soft and calm but always direct. He used the man’s first name again. He’d have to stop doing that, else it’d lose its significance. Still, he liked the familiarity it suggested, as did the warm hand at his back. He liked that a lot.

“Later, I’m going to show you proper gratitude for liberating me from the Tesseract, but I have immediate concerns about your welfare in regards to Fury and SHIELD, but mostly about Loki reuniting with the Tesseract and courting you again to his side. Talk to me about that.”

“I...I think it’s gone. Whatever Thor and Tony did seems to have worked."

“Yes, I also feel like the Tesseract has no hold over me anymore. I can feel it near us though, like standing in front of a refrigerator with the freezer door open. The cold bleakness just pours out of it the closer you stand,” Phil said, staring off into the distance. He quickly regained his composure and absently scratched at the long stubble that formed a short beard trailing down his neck. He was grateful for the respite of privacy as the nurses filtered out of the room to do various things. No doubt they would return shortly and end this valued time he had alone with his favorite agent.  
“Clint,” he said, lowering his voice to a soft tone. “I want to hear your thoughts on Loki. You two spent a great deal of time as unwilling associates. We’ve both been compromised in the past and know that sometimes it is necessary to align yourself with the enemy for survival. But what do you think about him now, this side of him that only Thor has seen, up until now?”

"Loki...” Clint paused wondering how to put what he was feeling into words.

“He got inside my head. He made me… he made me do things. It wasn’t only him in there. But I think you know that."

Coulson nodded his understanding, but that wasn't a subject he was ready to touch on now. Loki was more like an angry kitten compared to Thanos, and even the thought of the Ancient sent chills up Coulson's spine. "Go on."

"It’ll take a long time to get over the whole thing. Hell, I even tried to cut my own heart out to make it stop, but Loki wouldn’t let me. He healed the wound I’d made. I guess I was still useful to him. I don’t know. I’d like it if I never saw him again, but I don’t think we’ve got that choice. I… I’d do anything to not be under its control again. Even if it means working with Thor and Loki to keep that from happening. Loki seems different somehow too, not as desperate or haunted. That damned Tesseract twisted him even more, Coulson, more than I think he was before.”

He’d heard the story when Clint revealed his experience earlier, when Phil was still under the Tesseract's influence but aware of everything and everyone in the room. Hearing Clint relay this while conscious was no less heartbreaking. He could've lost Barton forever, nearly did, if not for Loki. What an odd situation, he mocked mentally. For the thousandth time, he’d wished Clint hadn’t been in 'the pit' when Loki came through the portal at the PEGASUS research facility. If Loki had never gotten his hands on Barton… but that was all in the past and nothing could be done to change anything but the present and future.

“There’s a mess I still have to clean up, sir. I helped Loki pick his soldiers. I helped him find the people he needed to achieve his goals. Not all of them were killed in the Invasion. They are still out there, and it is my responsibility to stop them.” Clint stopped and just tried to breathe. He hoped it would get easier talking about all of this, but for right now, it was like scraping his fingernails over an open wound.

Coulson reached out and rested his hand on the archer’s arm, feeling the strength of his biceps under his palm, but also the tremor in Barton's body.

"Alright," he said firmly, nodding once as he did when he was satisfied with a report and briefing. He squeezed gently to garner Clint's attention. "Bravo Zulu, agent."

It was a military version of 'well done' that commanders used for their operatives, saving the phrase for special missions that were considered remarkable if one returned home. He knew he couldn't erase the damage done to his favored agent’s psyche. The only thing he could do was supply Barton with a constructive outlet for his emotional liability and a safe shelter to heal and re-center himself. That was paramount in Phil’s mind.

“Thank you, sir.” Clint replied with a crooked smile. Hearing Coulson say he didn’t think Clint was a total fuck up, that he approved of the way the archer handled the whole convoluted mess, did a lot to start the healing of Clint’s soul. 

“My time spent in service of the Tesseract began when yours ended,” Coulson said. “We had very different experiences, but I think we can help each other deal with the fall out. There are only a handful of people who’ve seen the things we have – for good or evil. You aren’t responsible for your actions while under its influence, Barton. In fact, I’d have been disappointed if you hadn’t been such a remarkable adversary for SHIELD at the time. Your advanced skill set and keen mind are what turned me on the first time I encountered you.”

Coulson's declaration made Clint raise his head and stare. His startled hazel green eyes bore into Phil’s as if to try and decide if he’d heard it right.

“We should do something with our knowledge, don't you think?” Phil continued. “Something far more constructive than ruin of the human race or selfish fulfillment of vengeance. I have several ideas for that, and I’ll also help you hunt down the lackeys too. We’ll deal with them our way, outside of SHIELD if necessary, because I don’t want you anywhere near Fury right now,” he said fiercely, feeling a shot of adrenaline skitter through him. "We'll hole up here for a while and utilize Stark's stubbornness towards the agency and his hospitality along with resources. I'll make it worth his while. I've been omnipresent in this Tower, thanks to the Tesseract, and I happen to know exactly what he wants and needs. We'll give it to him for several favors in return. But I want to keep you off SHIELD’S grid for a while."

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, sir. Fury doesn’t exactly trust me right now. I’ve basically been under house arrest since the battle. I got tired of the tests, the headshrinkers, and the glares, so I split. Nat came and got me when she found out you were still alive. In fact, I’d still like to put an arrow into Fury, somewhere non-lethal, of course, but damned painful.”

"I understand," Coulson said, nodding with a hint of a smile. "I'm grateful to him for not giving up on me, but there are several important issues I have to discuss with him too about how he went about it. We'll have our time."

He flipped the sheet and blanket back covering his legs and moved to dangle them over the edge of the bed. Everything ached with the soreness of a mission gone horribly wrong, but so much needed to be done. He was confident that he was ready to be mobile until new scar tissue pulled from chest to back like a giant rubber band snapping inside him. He hissed in pain and crumpled inward.

This harsh reminder of Phil’s wound was heart rending. He knew it took a lot for his handler to show any weakness at all. Not giving a damn about any staff that might be looking, Clint wrapped his arms around Coulson and gently rubbed his back. “Just breathe. I know it hurts. Just take it easy.”

“Can we get some help over here?” Clint called out, sounding more frantic than he intended. Eventually, the archer would have to learn to calm down around the man he cared so much about. During a mission, that could get them both killed. But right now, whatever was between them, whatever Clint hoped would develop, was too new and fragile.

He looked over at the door as Natasha slammed it open and stalked into the room. She quickly assessed the position of both men present and crossed the room, tension vibrating in her every move. “You okay? Should you be up, sir?”

Clint shook his head. “Probably not.”

“I’m okay,” Phil countered. “Just adjusting to being vertical again.” 

“Whatever you say, sir.” 

“Status report?”

Natasha sprawled gracefully in the chair next to Coulson’s bed. Despite this pose, Clint knew she could be up and combat ready in seconds. “I was banished from the spectacle. I hope Stark and Rogers didn’t screw up and get themselves killed.”

“I’m sure Jarvis would have mentioned that,” Clint muttered, most of his attention still focused on Coulson. He was grateful though, that Nat failed to mention his close and intimate proximity to their handler, just a slight smile and one raised brow as if to say ‘it’s about damned time’.

“No one has been killed," Jarvis interrupted, "but I must advise you that Director Fury’s transport has landed on the helipad. It appears SHIELD witnessed Thor’s display and has acted accordingly. The Director is currently on his way down to this level.”

“Oh fuck.” Clint and Natasha’s simultaneous exclamations summed up the trio's sentiment perfectly.

"Barton," Coulson ordered. "Find a duct somewhere to hide in while Fury's in the building. Romanoff, you want to stay or go? It's up to you. I'll have your back either way. If you stay, I'll ask you to follow my lead."

Clint missed this... seeing Agent Coulson in action, watching in fascination as Phil mentally donned his agent persona, stuffing everything except what was necessary away in some corner of his psyche. He even managed to sit up straight and appear as if his pain-filled episode earlier never happened. 

The archer wished he was alone with Phil right now. It was not the time to get turned on by large and in charge Agent Phil Coulson, but if he were… the odds of said agent being pinned against any available surface and shown Clint’s appreciation was very likely.

Barton gave Coulson his trademark cocky grin, one he hadn’t felt like using in ages. “I can do that, sir.” 

He sauntering over to one of the air return ducts and pulled a knife from an ankle sheath, before standing on a table and popping the grating open. Clint levered himself into the small space and placed the grill that he’d hung onto back in place. If he flexed a bit more than needed well who could blame him. He knew he was showing off for someone who cared to look now.

Natasha watched Clint show off and could not help the small chuckle. If Coulson now had this effect on Clint, she gave their tentative relationship her full blessing. It was the most normal she’d seen the archer act in months.

“I’m staying right here,” Natasha replied, as she once more got comfortable in her chair. "I can follow orders, sir, as long as they're yours.” 

~*~

Tony pulled himself up off the couch. The injections Bruce gave him took the edge off his symptoms. He needed to deal with Fury and that potential nightmare. 

Nothing a good stiff drink wouldn’t cure, he thought. Tony ignored Steve’s disapproving stare as he poured himself a whiskey and downed it in three gulps.

Thusly fortified, Tony made his way to meet Fury, hoping that sheer bravado kept him on his feet. Because right now, the billionaire was sweating like a pig and was not too entirely sure he wasn’t seeing double.

Steve bit his tongue when Tony shoved his restraining hand off his shoulder and got up. He refrained from commenting when the stubborn idiot went to the bar and downed a tumbler of whiskey, nor did he mention the way Tony seemed all too unsteady on his feet or the way his eyes appeared a little glazed from the fever.

No, Steve just followed behind Tony, ready to catch him when he finally collapsed. Then he would lecture the Man of Iron, who was clearly not as sturdy as his nickname implied. He’d have a captive audience for said dressing down. Truth be told. Steve was rather looking forward to it.

~*~

"You," Fury said to the pilot. "With me."

The SHIELD Director unbuckled himself from the QuinJet and leapt out onto the helipad on Stark's tower. He noted that the man had gone with his suggestion by putting railings around the pad. Not everyone had jet packs strapped to their arms and legs. And at this height, the winds aloft could sweep someone right off the pad. Yes, the steel fence was good for his psyche.

He marched inside, military issued Beretta M9 in hand with one in the chamber. The pilot scrambled to follow.

He punched the button for the elevator and waited, bantering with Jarvis until he finally broke through the coding. He wondered where the welcoming committee was and how many of them would attend him. 

Freaks, he thought to himself. They were all freaks of some sort, and they all converged around Stark. Like a freak magnet. 

He tried hard to ignore the fact that he was their self-appointed leader, advocate, and shield that stood countless times between them and the World Counsel. 

~*~

Bruce had taken the stairs back down to the medical wing, and when he got to the floor, he stepped out onto slick marble. He slid a couple of feet, flailed a bit and righted himself on the custodian currently mopping the floor. "Shit," he muttered, but continued on his way.

"Bobby?" Dr. Banner shouted. Why he was shouting, he wasn't sure, but he was.

The nurse in question raised his head. He’d been sitting quietly on a sofa in a seating area of the medical wing. After getting checked out by another on-call medical person he’d been told to rest and take it easy for a while. Now Bobby heard his name being called by Dr. Banner. The man sounded a bit annoyed and he had to take a deep breath before getting to his feet.

Really, he had to get over this fear that the Hulk would just pop out and kill him with one mighty fist. Bobby loved his job here, despite the general craziness that occurred on his first days on the job. It couldn’t get any worse than this, could it?

The nurse hurried out into the hallway and met Dr. Banner. “Yes, sir?”

"It's not, sir. Just Bruce."

"Um, how about doctor?"

"If you have to." The kid was so genuine it hurt. "So, can you have some tranquilizer guns and straight jackets delivered from the Pentagon, or how about a vet’s office? Whichever can get them here faster." 

"Uh, sir? Should I run?"

Bruce put his hand on the kid's shoulder and tried not to laugh. "Okay, I’m just kidding, sort of, but I need you to, well, I need you to lie for me. That’s such a horrible thing to ask of someone, but… well, can you do that?”

“...Are you feeling alright, Dr. Banner?"

"Yeah, um. There's going to be a big burly man with a gun, or probably a flamethrower. Something violent and threatening. He's going to try to intimidate everyone. He'll succeed mostly. But yeah, how do you feel about lying to protect the Avengers?"

Bobby paused for a moment as he sorted through everything the man had said. “Well, I did sign a confidentiality contract for Stark Industries when I was hired. I’d hate to jeopardize my job. But lie for the Avengers? I’m not sure," Bobby hated that he was sounding a little too much like the Iowa farm boy he’d once been. "Is it for Mr. Stark?” 

"Yes, yes it is. Okay, you know what?" Bruce said, running a hand through his hair. "Let's just go with this: Anything this guy says to you, just reply like you just did to me. You signed a contract with Mr. Stark and you work for him. He'll press you, threaten your with military ranking, but remember this guy doesn't hold that kind of jurisdiction on you while you're in this Tower, okay?"

“Okay, I can do that,” Bobby said, relieved that he could lie if he had to and not have it conflict with his current orders.

Bruce made for Coulson's room, Bobby trailing him. Before he got to the threshold, the elevator door parted and out stepped Nick Fury. 

He looked like a ninja grizzly bear stomping down the hallway with a bazooka. It was just a tall man in a long leather coat with a handgun, but Bobby actually took a step back.

"Director," Bruce said, clapping his hands in front of him and folding them together, as if barely containing his sanity. "Wow, you sure picked a good day to visit. We’re having quite an interesting morning."

"Dr. Banner," the man said, one all-seeing eye boring into Bruce like a searing laser beam. "I was hoping you'd be a lot more green and angry, considering who was just outside playing paddy-cake with his brother."

"Uh yeah, about that... how'd that go for you?"

"Do I look like I’m happy about Asgardians back in Manhattan?" Fury asked, nostrils flaring. He stopped directly in front of the doctor, hands on resting right above his heavily-laden gun belt. "Surprising that now, I can’t find a single soul in the top floors, so I figured I'd come down here and check on my precious cargo.” 

"I'm assuming you mean Coulson," Banner offered. "Good news on that front, actually."

Bruce beckoned the man down the hallway and opened the door to the agent's room. He then made the gesture for Fury to enter. "See for yourself."

Bruce caught eyes with Tony, who was now walking down the hallway from where Fury had entered, Steve marching along behind him looking resolute but somewhat weary. Reinforcements had arrived.

Fury entered the hospital room unsure of what he'd find. The doctor had made it sound like there'd been a breakthrough, but he never expected this.

"Hello Nick," Coulson said, a smirk on his bearded face. "I was just talking with Natasha about my beloved Captain America vintage trading cards." He winked at the redhead. "I refuse to call you sir again until you tell me you didn't ruin them for the bloody guilt trip you played on the Avengers." 

Fury was stunned into silence. How Coulson was alive, awake, and bantering with him had to be a miracle. The explanation was with Stark, he was sure of it. “After everything that went down during and after the Invasion, and you’re concerned with your trading cards.”

“Director Fury,” Tony said from the doorway, in his larger-than-life persona. He clapped Bruce on the shoulder as he passed the distraught looking geneticist. "See, I delivered: one distinctly non-comatose Agent. I just had to get some outside help to get it done.”

Tony leaned against the doorframe, hoping for the pose to come across as casual. But in truth, it was keeping him upright. He could practically hear Steve’s eye roll from behind him, although the large hand on the center of his back was appreciated.

"This, I am grateful for, Stark. Truly,” Nick admitted. “But imagine my surprise when I rolled up outside your windows and saw the very same war criminal who threatened humanity now fighting with his brother on your balcony. I still don't know why I hesitated to blow them off your landing pad." He fixed his eye on Tony and walked up to him nearly chest to chest. "Where is Loki?"

“Right at the moment, he's with Thor. Why is he here? Well, when you have a very large Thunder God asking for asylum, it is wise not to refuse. Wouldn’t want to create in inter-dimensional incident by telling him to fuck off. Lightning and me don’t mix well, unless I’m in the suit, then it is one hell of a charge. Oh, and before you get your tighty-whities in a twist, the Asgardians are the only reason Coulson is awake and not a glowy-blue-eyed slave to that little cube you were so fond of.”

Coulson looked at Natasha in abject horror, as if to say "does he ever shut up?" Stark just gave up every piece of truth they owned and leverage would be decidedly harder to come by. Phil laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, assured that Tony Stark would never, ever be involved in espionage of any kind and do it successfully.

“Now do you see why I wanted to shoot him?" Natasha wryly stated. "I even filled out all the proper forms and everything.” 

“What? Was it something I said?” Tony added sweetly.

"Shut it, Stark." Coulson rubbed at his eyes and the blinked the ceiling back into focus. "This is why Pepper is the official spokesperson for S.I.," he muttered.

"Let me get this straight," Fury said, crossing his arms over his broad chest, filling with room with his presence. 

"Thor brought Loki to you," he said, pointing to Tony, "and you didn't think about notifying anyone to come and pick him up? Didn't think about the people who live in the streets below you who are laying bricks as we speak to repair the damage done by this megalomaniac?"

Fury didn't give him time to answer. He turned to face Steve Rogers. "And where were you? You thought this was a good idea? Invite Loki to the penthouse, allow him to diddle with my agent here. He just influenced you that easily to break more laws of war and rank. Did the moral compass in this place shatter when I wasn't looking?"

He turned to the geneticist. "Surely you, Dr. Banner, have some sanity left?"

"Oh I've got none of that," Bruce answered immediately. "They've all made sure it's completely gone for good. Especially that one," he said, nodding towards Tony, a short burst of maniacal laughter bubbling out.

Steve wondered how he’d truly ignored protocol and gone along with this disaster. His mind went blank. He felt like the first time he’d been drug in front of the school principal for getting caught up in one of Bucky’s schemes. The only reply he could think of was the one he’d used then. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, given the circumstances.”

“Why don’t you tell me about those circumstances?” Fury demanded. 

Now challenged, Steve found himself annoyed. “Look, we’ve all gone over this mess a hundred times already. We didn’t come to the conclusions we did without great deliberation from all our parts. It has been moment-to-moment since Thor arrived and we are doing the best we can with the information we have. Moreover, you could actually try trusting our judgment, for once.”

"Nick," Coulson said, gaining the man's attention by using his given name in front of subordinates. "As you can see, this situation is still unfolding. It happened fast. We've had little time to properly regroup and debrief. I'd be happy to do so and compile a report for you in an hour or two-"

"Excuse me," Fury interrupted, put out and angry, "But how are you even talking to me right now? Would someone please explain that to me, because nothing in our arsenal made any headway towards reviving you. You mentioned the Tesseract," Fury said, pointing again at Tony. "Did Loki bring that back with him too? Because I don't give a damn what you say. If that thing is back, all bets are off and you're all coming in as hostiles."

Tony blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision. “Well you see, Nick, that cosmic cube we were all so fond of was still using Coulson as its eyes and ears. It was keeping him under control. That’s why its so dangerous dicking around with things you don’t understand. Alien technology is called that for a reason. It had them all by the short and curlies. Bruce can give you the medical-jargon-filled version if you prefer. But we figured out a way to yank it out and contain it. Thor handled the disbursement of it, at the very end, and now it's gone. That is what you stumbled into. Us saving the day. Again.”

Fury's eyes flicked around the room in the silence, finally settling on Natasha.

"Where's your sidekick, hmm? I haven't seen Barton since he made his escape. Sounds like he could still be compromised if the Tesseract can still take hold of people, even though it is supposedly off world. Perhaps I should send a team out to retrieve him. Maybe the Howling Commandos can find what you can't seem to locate?"

Tony watched with interest as Natasha’s sprawling pose in her chair became a lot less sprawl like and more like she was about to fling a very sharp pointy object in Fury’s direction.

“I’m sure Clint is around somewhere. Good luck to your team if you send them out to track him down. That's not a great way to win back his trust… or mine,” Natasha replied in a quiet monotone. That was more unnerving than if she’d shouted her answer.

Steve just knew this was going to end so very badly. He was torn in too many directions. Between propping Tony up, trying to keep an eye on Natasha, and hoping Bruce would not get upset, he was stretched really thin. All he’d need is for Thor to come strolling in.

Fury leaned down and put his hands on either side of Natasha's chair. He got in her face and tipped his head to the side. "Maybe you've all been compromised?"

He studied her a bit longer then moved fast. He had his gun out again and pointed at the air duct before Coulson could breathe in. One shot rang out and hit the metal grate, imbedded in the wall right next to the duct. The sound pinged like a piano wire pulled too tight that snapped. "Did I graze you, Barton?" 

Bruce stumbled back as if he'd been the one hit, but the green tint to his eyes and skin told the tale of what was happening.

Phil was on his feet. 

"Get out of here, Fury. Go," he demanded. "You've created a volatile situation where there are variables you are unaware of. You are outnumbered and outgunned, when you consider the fact that you cannot leave his building unless Jarvis allows it, and I'm pretty sure Stark has a small arsenal of suits in his lab that he hasn't fessed up to. So if you could please leave the way you came, I'll be happy to send over my report when I've collected the data and compiled the information for you."

"Yeah, he’s right. I've had it. I'm done," Bruce said, fidgeting where he stood. He rubbed his green-tinged forehead with one hand nervously. "The staff and I are doing our best, but you continue to... You know what? Just get out. Everyone, just get out. Coulson, stay in your bed. Stark, find a room in the med wing and stay there until we can evaluate you. Fury, you better leave by your own power right now or I'm going to toss you, your pilot, and your QuinJet across the Hudson."

“Sir, I really do think you need to leave before someone does something they regret.” Steve loomed over Fury’s escort and frowned down at the SHIELD agent, whose hand was hovering near his own firearm. When Tony looked like he was going to add his two cents in, Steve clapped a hand over the billionaire’s mouth. “Just don’t.”

"Mutiny," Fury said, nodding as if he understood. "Alright, you want to it play this way? Okay. We can do this. Just remember, this was your choice. You were America's heroes. The world was on your side. They wanted to trust you. Now, every news station that has a live feed is hovering over “Avengers Tower,” wondering what all the fuss was about, and if one of them got footage of Loki? But no, you want to do this on your own. Sure," he said, with a casual shrug. "Go ahead. I've been taking the heat for your bullshit this entire time, standing up as your advocate, sometimes as only thing you've got standing between you and the animosity of this world. But now that you ungrateful sons-a-bitches want to do this on your own now, I’ll sit back and watch the show with the rest of the public. And I'm sure they will be so very eager to hear the truth. They'll understand why you’re harboring a sadistic fugitive, right?"

Fury holstered his gun and started to exit. He stopped beside Rogers and Stark. "Remember the hundreds of people who died during the Invasion. I’m sure their families were first in your mind during all that deliberation, am I right?" 

Fury then left, striding down the hall with just as much conviction as he'd entered.

~*~

When Fury was gone, Tony pushed Steve’s hand away and began walking down the hall towards another room in the med wing. 

“Pepper was right. I’m a fucking disaster. I’d be surprised if the general populace didn’t storm the Tower. Shit...” Tony ran his hands through his hair. It was true. He could have done so many other things. Instead, he selfishly thought he had it all handled. Look where it got them. Now, it just wasn’t Tony’s ass on the line, it was all of theirs.

He stalked over to the wall and leaned his head against the cool surface. It was so hard to think, to plan. Anger, grief, and a sense of hopelessness swamped him. He needed an outlet, some way to punish himself.

With the last of his strength, Tony drew back his fist and smashed it into the unyielding wall. He bit his lip as the pain exploded across his knuckles, then he sank down to the floor cradling his now probably broken hand, unable to even check. The poison that had simmered just under the surface finally pulled him under.

Clint surveyed the scene as he dropped down into the med bay across the room from where Fury had aimed his gun. Even a rookie knew to move their location in the event they might be discovered.

“Well that could have gone better,” Clint acknowledged, comment echoing in the awkward silence.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Tony and Loki for your enjoyment! Thanks again for reading, kudos and commenting!

An hour after Fury left, Bruce Banner drove an unmarked white utility van out of the service entrance of the Tower. He tugged his baseball cap down lower before turning onto Park Avenue. He drove a few blocks, made several right turns, then doubled back to possibly throw off any SHIELD agents most likely watching the building from every angle.

Fury had unloaded a dump truck of guilt on them for what happened with the Asgardians. Now, he felt like shit for causing every person he saw on the streets to appear nervous. Half of them were still glancing at the sky, hurrying to where they were going in fear. Many of them had cell phones to their ears and were likely speculating with their loved ones about what was going to appear next over the Avengers Tower to threaten their lives.

Seated next to him, Bobby said, “Do you ever feel like things are so surreal you must be in a movie or something?”

“All the time.” Bruce stopped at the light and nervously tapped his thumb against the top of the steering wheel. “When you volunteered for this job – I’m assuming you volunteered?”

“Yes, sir. Colonel Rhodes had asked for a list of candidates. My superior officer put my name down. I passed the first and second screenings with the Colonel and next with Ms. Potts. Then it was my choice to accept or decline. Nobody in their right mind would turn down such an honorable offer… Right?”

“Now you’re second guessing yourself,” Bruce stated. He felt terrible for involving Bobby even more now than he’d already done. It was bad enough he’d scared the piss out of the kid. Then Bobby had gone and technically died for one of them just to be revived long enough to be confronted with Fury shooting at them followed by Bruce almost having another green-tinged temper tantrum.

Even worse, now he’d pulled Bobby out of the Tower and made him an accomplice to drugging Tony Stark. They were now headed to the mansion on Fifth Avenue to try stand as Tony’s chaperone while Loki did whatever he was going to do help. 

“Listen. When we get there,” Bruce said, glancing over his shoulder at Tony still unconscious on the gurney, “we’ll get him settled. Then I want you to drive the van back to the Tower for me. You've done a lot for us, Bobby. It's time you rested for a couple of days. See a doctor,” he half joked.

“What if you need me? Besides, I have no idea what else I’d be doing if not helping out.” Bobby had done the whole tourist bit when he first got to the city, gawking with the rest of the world at the damage left over from the battle. To think he now worked for the heroes responsible for repelling that attack, well, no matter what Fury said, they were still heroes in his eyes. Flawed, yes. Human, mostly yes. These reasons made him want to stay, to do anything possible to help these amazing individuals overcome their adversities.

"Okay, look. If you remain at the mansion, and I emphasize if," Bruce warned, "I can't even begin to warn you properly about Loki. He's the most manipulative, scheming being I've ever met. He's dangerous. Everything that comes out of his mouth has an ulterior motive. You have to remember that."

Bobby eyed the doctor suspiciously. “Tell me again why we are going to him for help?”

Bruce winced. Touché. “Because he’s also one of the most powerful beings on the planet right now. Not even I can refute that we need his help." 

The corner of the nurse’s mouth turned up. “Okay, got it. Loki is not to be trusted. Everything that he might say is suspect. I’ll be careful.”

“I mean it.”

“Yes, sir.” Bobby wasn’t dumb. He knew both Asgardians were larger than life and very real threats if they turned on him. He just couldn’t resist the addicting melodrama that made up the Avengers. “None of this was in the contract I signed with Mr. Stark, but it sure beats doing rotations in some hot spot in the Middle East. I’d go back there if they needed me, of course, but you can’t get this experience anywhere else, you know what I mean?”

Bruce snorted indignantly. “We are a unique bunch, I’ll give you that.”

He tilted the rear view mirror when he heard Tony shifting around on the gurney. 

Tony really didn’t want to open his eyes. He felt like he was moving, and that did not sit well with his stomach at all. His right hand ached, his head pounded, and he was having trouble focusing his thoughts. He heard people talking and vaguely placed Bruce and someone else. Their conversation was dismal, but that was Banner lately. Tony really should ask why. 

Then he remembered Loki. 

He had allowed Loki to get too close too fast. He’d kissed him. Hard. Tony had wanted it, desperately. His mistake could be the Avengers downfall. And Pepper, oh god, she was going to be pissed, particularly pissed. Then he prayed Rhodey never found out, or at least waited until he had a plausible cover story.

Then there was the cherry on this shit sundae: smashing his hand against the wall like some angsty teenager. Tony groaned at that memory.

“Did anyone get the number of the truck that hit me?” Tony raised his hand to rub his forehead and realized he couldn’t. He was strapped down. What the hell? He opened his eyes and actually looked around. They were in what appeared to be a van. Was it so bad that he’d been shanghaied? And by Bruce Banner? This was way too kinky for the doctor, so it was somewhat alarming. “I hope someone is going to tell me what’s going on here. Not a big fan of being restrained right now, and despite the fact that I know both of you have never meant me any harm, I’m beginning to panic a little.” 

Bruce thought he’d used enough sedative to last through the ten minute car ride to the mansion. He'd tried far less than normal, fearing it would react with the toxin in Tony's body, but obviously, his calculations were still off.

"Try not to move around too much, Tony. You were dizzy before, not to mention increasingly focused on self-harm. That probably isn’t comforting," Bruce said, pulling a face. “You broke your hand, probably in multiple places. So just hang tight. We're taking you to your father's mansion on Fifth Avenue. Thor says Loki can fix you."

“Fuck no! Turn the van around. I’m not going to that mausoleum, that fucking shrine to Howard Stark’s vanity.” Tony hadn’t been there since right after his parents’ funeral and he had no intention on going there now. With his uninjured hand, he tried to curl his fingers up to reach the release for the restraints.

Logically, Tony knew installing Loki in the mansion meant he’d have to go there at some point, but he didn’t want it to be right now, not when he was feeling so raw and exposed from Fury’s visit and his response to watching Loki almost die. This tipped him over the edge. 

There were too many emotions rising to the surface at once. All the memories of growing up in that mansion, the painful ones he’d so carefully stuffed away, were now rushing too close to the surface. He hated that a man long dead still held the power to haunt him.

“Oh god, I feel like I'm drowning. Am I drowning?”

"Tony, just take a deep breath," Bruce began after hearing the panic surface. "I don't know what else to do for you besides bring you to Loki. I could take you to a hospital instead, but I don't think the general public would do well to see you injured. You need to put on the face of calm reassurance after Thor’s show on the landing. They need to see Iron Man healthy and in control.”

Bruce looked at Bobby who nodded. It sounded like a legitimate story, but would Tony and his rising anxiety buy it?

"I can call an orthopedist to come to the Tower to look at your hand,” he continued, “but you're going to need x-rays and then he'll have to set your fractures, maybe even admit you for surgery. That scenario comes with a whole new ballgame because we’d have to tell him about the poison in your system and yeah, this is getting really crazy to contemplate.”

Bobby looked back at their patient and then at the doctor, wondering who was going to win out. “We’re almost there,” he muttered. “What should we do?” 

Bruce rubbed at the stubble growing on his chin. He was sure if he looked in the mirror, it'd be completely gray by now. "How do you want me to deal with this, Tony, because I haven't got much choice here? Loki or the hospital… it is entirely up to you. I’ll take you to either one."

Tony took a deep breath and blinked the sweat out of his eyes. He glanced down at his immobilized hand and winced. He’d really done a number on it. “Bruce, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you through all the messed up shit that is my life. You have the patience of a saint. Do they give out medals for that? If so, you deserve ten of them.”

“I don’t want a medal,” Bruce answered with a bashful smile. “I just want to know where to aim the van.” 

Tony’s previously spoken words echoed in his mind: _You’re a god. Isn’t it time you started acting like one?_ How could he ask Loki to drop his baggage and man up when he couldn’t find a way to do it himself? 

"Alright, fine. I don’t have a choice. I have to fix this. If it means taking a much delayed stroll down memory lane, then so be it. Just...” Tony hated asking for things. He really did but the thought of being practically alone in that house was seriously psych damaging. “Just, could you stay a bit when we get there?” 

He knew Bruce was a hair's breadth from bolting, escaping this madness and going back to Tibet, or wherever the hell Bruce went to meditate. And if his voice sounded the least bit pathetic, well chalk it up to having a really bad day.

Bruce rested his forehead against the steering wheel. Someone honked their horn behind him, and he straightened and stepped on the gas. Of course he'd stay, he thought to himself. This was Tony Stark. Who could say no to him? The man wore his heart on his sleeve most of the time, when he wasn't thinking with his dick or his ego or that ridiculously intelligent brain of his.

There were a few hundred reasons to go, but the one reason to stay was simply because Tony Stark had asked him to stay by his side.

It wasn't easy for any guy to ask that of a friend, but it was obvious that Tony was way in over his head. This was a mechanical engineer who'd purposefully injured his hand. It was like a sniper poking his own eye out, or a dancer cutting off their own foot. The self-loathing was obvious. It pulled at Bruce's heart hard enough to push aside those pesky feelings he had to cut and run.

"Yeah, I’ll stay" he said to Tony, not quite able to get much more out for a few moments. "We gotta fix this. And I'm talking about everything. I want our relatively-normal lives back. You know, the ones where we only screw up our own shit, not everyone else's."

Next to him, Bobby piped up with a timid chortle. “Sorry, it’s just that from where I’m at, it is kind of surprising when I hear you all question your value to the human race. You guys have saved so many people, and not just in the Invasion. It makes me wonder what your definition is for a hero, if you guys aren’t it.”

It was a long time before either Tony or Bruce spoke. 

"I'm not going anywhere," the doctor finally stated.

“Okay,” Tony said, willing himself to calm down. “Okay.”

Exhausted and hurting, Tony closed his eyes and tried to handle the rest of the short ride to the manor without hyperventilating. It was weird though, despite what he’d told Bruce, that house was a part of him. Why he’d hung onto it, Tony couldn’t say. When the Maria Stark foundation moved to other headquarters, Pepper had presented him with several very lucrative offers on the place. It was worth even more now since it was known to be Tony Stark’s boyhood home. They’d even had to add extra SI security to keep the souvenir hunters and vandals away. But he’d refused to sell every single time. Maybe now he’d get the chance to figure out why.

Bruce pulled up at the back of the house, as Jarvis had instructed him. He reached for a Stark phone from his shirt pocket and sent the four digit code to the contact titled "J." The large gate opened for Bruce and he drove onto the property.

It was kind of one of those mythological things, like Gatsby's house. Looking at the mansion out the front window of the van, it looked more like a five-star hotel for the rich and famous who preferred that B&B type atmosphere than Trump tower.

"You grew up here?" Bruce let slip. He shook his head and continued to pull around to the back. There was a curved drive hidden from street view that led to a servant's entrance. He figured that would be best. Manhattan’s skyscrapers were all around them. There was really no way to hide from sight, but he did the best he could by pulling as far into the portico as possible.

“Yeah, I grew up here. Seventeen happy years.” He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. “It originally belonged to my Mom’s family. Howard married well."

"And here I thought all the money came from your Dad’s ingenuity,” Bruce said. “Jarvis tells me he's connected to the mansion but not like he is to your other homes." He climbed into the back of the van and began to "untie" Tony from his restraints. It all felt very cloak and dagger at this point.

"Yeah, Jarvis can tap into the security network, but he’s not hard wired into this house like at the mansion in Malibu or the Tower. It is on my to-do list, somewhere down the line.”

“But since you never wanted to come here….” 

“Yeah,” Tony acknowledged, flexing his good wrist when he was freed. 

Bruce blinked at the sunlight that streamed through the back doors when Bobby opened them. Beside the nurse stood Happy, but he did not look very happy at all.

“You’ve finally done it. Gone completely crazy. And no you can’t fire me for saying so. Pepper signs my paychecks." Harold “Happy” Hogan crossed his beefy arms over his broad chest and frowned. "Oh and by the way, I got your so called ‘guests’ here and settled. When Pepper finds out, she’s gonna skin you alive, and I want a front row seat. I mean, really, boss?”

“Well, good to see you too. I don’t care what Pepper signs, you’re fired anyway.” Tony hissed in pain as he sat up. He was not lying on that gurney another second.

Despite Happy’s seemingly harsh words, he immediately reached out to help steady Tony. He’d do anything to protect the billionaire who he now called friend. There was no way they could have gone through so much together and stay just chauffeur and employer.

"Watch his hand," Bruce said, helping Tony crawl out of the back of the van. "He's more likely to fall over rather than give you hell," he told Happy.

Truthfully, Bruce was so glad to see the man still here on site. He'd heard about Happy but did not realize he came with a pound of backtalk for every inch of his worth. Bruce realized this might actually be the best place for Stark at the moment.

"Speaking of the house guests, how's the dark one? Is he conscious yet?"

“His highness is ensconced in one of the third floor guest rooms.” Happy replied sarcastically. “He ordered me to get him some food.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. "I’m beginning to think that Loki may be an emotional eater." 

Happy carefully grasped Tony’s shoulder to steady the billionaire as they helped him to the back door.

Bobby grabbed the bags from the van and followed behind. They’d hastily packed up any medical supplies they could think of and a few changes of clothing for them all. Anything else could be sent for and brought to the mansion by courier.

Happy pushed open the door and they all walked into the vestibule. Still guiding Tony, the chauffeur led him into the palatial kitchen.

Tony stopped and looked around. It was just as he remembered it. Well, despite the newer appliances, it was the kitchen he’d spent countless hours with his A.I.’s namesake: Edwin Jarvis.

He was Tony’s father figure when his own could not be bothered to even notice Tony’s presence. Jarvis was patient, tolerant and kind but never a pushover. Tony rarely got anything past that amazing man.

Even after Tony had moved out of the mansion to attend MIT, Edwin Jarvis continued to serve the Stark household. Despite the generous bequeathment to Jarvis after Howard and Maria Stark’s deaths, the man stayed on as head of household. He maintained the mansion as he’d always done until his death.

When Edwin Jarvis passed away in his sleep at the age of 89, Tony could not be found. He was partying on the French Riviera. Tony missed the funeral, dead drunk in a luxury hotel room. When he finally surfaced from his alcohol-induced stupor and learned of his mentor’s passing, Tony had been devastated. 

The genius did the only thing he could think of as a tribute to the man he called father: Tony built J.A.R.V.I.S., and they hadn't been parted since.

“So what do you think,” he asked, trying to break his train of thought.

Bruce wanted to whistle at the impressive kitchen. It was larger than any home in third world countries, but he could feel the tension radiating off of Tony. This was hard for him. For whatever the reason - and there were probably many of them - this made Tony very uncomfortable. So he gave Tony a crooked smile and shrugged, “Eh, it’ll do for a night or two.”

Happy grinned and led Tony to a bar stool. “So what’s next, boss?”

Tony blinked and forced himself back to the present. His mind was foggy from the drugs. He was so damned tired. “I just want to rest. Probably one of the suites on the third or fourth floor. Don’t want the fifth floor, that was the family wing. Pick a room. I really don’t care which one, just let me lay down somewhere.”

Happy hated that Tony’s voice was so quiet and subdued. He could almost feel this place sucking the life out of him. "You guys go ahead on up to the fourth floor. Pick out a couple of bedrooms. Stay away from the third floor. That’s where we’re keeping the dragon.”

“Oh he’s a dragon now?”

“I think if he could spit fire, he would,” Happy replied to his boss. 

“Technically, I think he can,” Tony said, frowning in thought. “If the lore is correct.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and motioned for Bobby to get a move on it. “Loki, the Norse God of Fire and Chaos. Could he be more dramatic?”

“He’s also supposedly the God of Submissive Lovers.”

Bruce wasn’t the only one to stop dead in his tracks and pull a sour face. “Could you not?”

“Sorry,” Tony muttered, standing to move towards the stairwell. “I think sleep now.”

“Come on, boss.” Happy said, artfully dragging the man up the stairs.

Bruce stepped along side to help after giving his bags to Bobby. "I'm sure this isn't the first time you've done this," the doctor mentioned to Happy. “How long have you two known each other?"

“Been working for Tony for what seems like forever. Started out as just his driver, but damn, the man needs a keeper. Pulled him out of a few scrapes. I was a boxer when I was younger. Saw this guy couldn’t defend himself for shit in a bar fight. Where was that?” Happy paused and looked down at Tony.

“Tijuana... uh ’92, I think. We both ended up in the hospital over that one,” Tony replied with a small smile.

“Haven’t learned much since then have you?” Happy was really worried about Tony this time. He wondered if the famous Stark luck had finally run out.

“I could still take you,” Tony muttered, his words thick with fatigue and pain. His hand was killing him and he really needed sleep. He briefly looked around when they got to the fourth floor. Tony spotted a door open about halfway down the hall. Bobby stood in the opening and motioned to the door across the hall. Tony was glad they’d be nearby. 

When they got there, Happy helped him inside that suite. The room was one they’d used for visiting VIP’s back in the day. It was as opulently appointed as the rest of the house. All Tony cared about was the plush-looking king sized bed.

Bobby had already turned down the bedding. Good kid. 

Tony sat on it like a rock, dropping hard onto the mattress with very little control. 

“This is so far out of hand,” Bruce muttered. Tony was pale, shaky, and was frighteningly close to shock. He hadn't wanted to travel down that path in his mind. He was angry about it all, yes, but even he knew that logically, it was one of the most intense mornings of the Avengers careers. They'd done a ton of good deeds today - they may have opened some old wounds and created some new ones - but no one had died. Yet. And any thoughts of the same were to be nixed by Loki's aid in just a few more minutes. 

"Do you know where Thor is," Bruce asked of Happy. The man was dutifully taking off Tony's shoes, as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

“Yeah, he’s in the room adjoining his brother’s. Third floor, first door on the left. As it was, Loki made is sound like it was barely adequate for royal ass. Personally, I think he was just fucking with me.” 

“Oh yeah, he was fucking with you,” Bruce agreed. “This place has everything anyone could want.”

"Only, the pantry is empty," said a deep, smooth voice from the doorway.

Happy spun around and raised his fists, embarrassed at having been startled so badly. At Bruce’s prompting, he slowly lowered them. Apparently, neither of them thought punching a god was a good idea.

Tony was the only one not surprised to see Loki appear in the doorway. The rest of the room was a blur, but not the Asgardian. “I didn’t expect company in this mausoleum, else I would’ve stocked up,” Tony explained. “Jarvis?”

Bruce turned to remind him that the A.I. wasn’t hooked up, but Tony was lucid enough to put it together before he opened his mouth.

“Fuck. Forgot he’s not here. Well, you’re on your own then, Loki.” Tony closed his eyes. He wanted to fade out and not come back for a while. A long while. 

Loki made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. He was slumped against the doorway with arms crossed over chest. He gave Tony the once over, noticed his hand in the splint, and then looked at Dr. Banner. "And I suppose you believe that is this my fault too?"

Bruce turned his back to the Asgardian. “Actually, no. This time, you don’t get the blame.”

Loki raised a brow but said nothing more. 

"What’s to prevent Loki from leaving this place?” Bruce asked, looking back at Tony. 

“Well, the doors and windows are wired to the security system,” Tony explained, half asleep. “Other than that, I guess you can ask him nicely not to leave. Make Thor watch him. Chain him to a bed. Normally, that’d sound like fun but-“ 

"Just. No," Bruce protested.

"Hey Loki?" Tony called out, unable to open his eyes anymore. "You’re under house arrest, okay? Promise not to leave…” 

"Really?” Bruce stated.

Happy agreed with his suspicions. “You think he’s gonna listen to you, boss?”

"Well, yes?"

Bruce exhaled loudly. He knew this was a turning point, another opportunity for Loki to make the right decision, or not. He looked the Asgardian in the eye. "Listen, Fury was eager to tell us that the general public is salivating for a witch hunt. You've put Tony in danger by doing your thing with the Tesseract outside where everyone could see that there was another problem on Stark Tower. There are already conspiracy theories that Tony was in with you and opened the portal for kicks when you let your pals in to wreak havoc. So please don't make this worse. Fury will be watching this place. He’ll have his agents dotting the city looking for you. Just stick to the original agreement: Help Tony and you get to stay. It's not rocket science."

"This is how you show your gratitude to me, after I sacrificed myself to rid you of the Tesseract's threat?" Anger bubbled underneath Loki's words. He stalked over to a window, parted the sheers and looked out onto the street below. 

After coming to some sort of decision in his mind, he turned, hands sliding into his tailored pants pockets. "You brought Stark here for my aid, so leave us now. You are not further required in any manner."

Tony winced at Loki’s tone. He did open his eyes to see if Bruce was looking greenish.

Bruce balled up his fists. "You're a real piece of work."

"I could say the same for you," Loki shot back. "You, of all people, should know what it is to be misunderstood, to know what it feels like when your actions are misinterpreted. Each time I try to make amends, someone is eager to perverse my intentions and make me the villain. I believe you are quite familiar with that experience, Dr. Banner."

Bruce opened his mouth twice, wordless each time, startled onto common ground with the God of Chaos.

"If you want me to buy into your redemption, you have to fix him," Bruce finally said, pointing at Tony. “Bones mended, toxin gone, everything.”

“Your demands are great,” Loki said, snidely. 

“You’d demand it of someone who hurt Thor, wouldn’t you?”

Loki narrowed his eyes but did not answer. 

"I'll be across the hall," Bruce said to Tony, before leaving. 

Tony was rapidly approaching being ‘done’ with it all of this. He was so much better when left in his workshop. Interacting with people was so fucking hard most times. “Happy, you’d better go too. We need stuff for the house ordered. Food, whatever. You figure it out. I can’t think anymore.”

“But Boss,” Happy started to protest.

“I’ll be okay,” Tony said with a weary sigh. “Loki won’t hurt me. Just go.” 

Happy paused. He hated how defeated his normally charismatic boss sounded, but what else could he do? He looked over at the nurse hovering nervously near the bed.

“C’mon kid, let’s split. I can show you around. We can get the things we need for the house set up.” Happy waited for the young man to join him, understanding why the kid gave Loki a wide berth. The Asgardian was threatening, even just standing there, silent as stone. It gave him the creeps. “You need anything, boss, just holler. I mean it.”

“Got it,” Tony said with a touch of humor. Finally, when the door clicked shut and silence lingered, he spoke. “Alone at last.” 

Loki stood on the other side of the bed, looking down at Stark disapprovingly. He reached for Stark’s hand, pausing only when the man hissed in pain when his fingers bent slightly. "Since no culprit was mentioned, I assume this was self-inflicted?"

“A wall decided to get into an argument with me. I lost,” Tony said, his voice diluted with fatigue. 

Loki wandered around the bed, studying the man laying it in. He appeared exhausted, sick, but not on death's bed. He could smell the sweet scent of poison in the man's perspiration, but this was something different. This was a bone deep weariness rooted in humanity.

No one had asked, but Loki was now in possession of far more magic after Thor's infusion with lightning than he had over the days after coming to Stark Tower. He was nowhere close to the level of power he was used to having at his disposal, but there was enough of it to share with Stark.

And it was clear the man needed such a respite.

Loki sat down on the edge of the bed. He was careful, as if asking for permission. He didn't know why his approach was so considerate, but then, Loki hadn't begun to dissect his feelings for this man. He just knew they came unbidden.

He tentatively reached out, not for Stark's mangled and bruised hand, but for his forehead. There were lines of age there, a frown currently marring the man's face. His skin was feverishly hot against the pads of his fingers.

Why do you make me feel, Loki wondered.

"Rest, Stark," he said instead. He whispered an old lullaby. They actually had a purpose, unbeknownst to humans, and worked quite well when uttered in the proper tongues of the fae folk. His brushed his palm against the man's cheek, his thumb skimming the bone and flesh of Stark's face.

Tony sighed and turned his head towards that light caress as he felt the tension bleed out of his body. His eyes closed, and right before sleep overtook the billionaire, he quietly said. “Thanks... thanks for saving Coulson. Just wanted you to know that I appreciate it. We all do.”

Loki frowned upon hearing those words. Wasn't that what he wanted, to be shown gratitude for his sacrifice? And yet, when spoken by Stark, they meant something entirely different. Had Banner said them, Loki would've gloated and thrown his abilities as a superior being in the human's face.

But coming from Stark, they invoked a humility in him that was rare. He usually only felt this way when Frigga complimented him. He loved her so much, that praise from her felt like extensions of her affection. And that, in turn, humbled him.

So why did he suddenly feel something similar with Stark's thanks?

Loki stood and walked away briskly, decidedly uncomfortable. This was not part of their deal. He had no desire to start a relationship with a human. He wanted nothing more than to use the man for shelter, his means to hide Loki and perhaps provide him with necessary currency, transportation, and other necessities.

But this? Is this what happened to Thor with that woman from the desert?

Loki's hand was on the doorknob but he paused. He was required to heal the man's hand, and by the Nines, he honestly wanted to do so. Not to satisfy Banner, but to take the pain away from Stark.

If he left without doing so, Stark would wake soon and be no better than before. And the Beast would be angry. And Thor would lecture him, et cetera, et cetera.

Loki raked his fingers through his hair, turning with them still threaded in his dark tresses. Stark lay on the bed, completely exposed and open to attack. He was so vulnerable. Loki had never been able to do that, even when on hunting trips with Volstagg and Thor's other friends.

He had told his servant, "Loki won't hurt me."

So confident, this one. Loki found himself wandering back to the man's side. He was a beautiful mess. There was no getting around it.

Loki sat back down, studying the man far too long. Eventually, he looked out towards the window, listening to the traffic outside, the occasional wailing siren driving by the mansion's grounds.

This was a terrible idea, he decided. He wasn't even sure of his intentions anymore. Survival, yes. But eventually, Odin would come looking for him. Not to mention those outside of Earth's atmosphere. If he were to have something meaningful with this Midgardian, it would only end badly for both of them.

He shouldn't.

He really shouldn’t.

But he knew he would.

It was just his nature.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from the Authors: This idea about Coulson’s past has been thrown around tumblr and forums. We love it, and buy into it wholeheartedly. That does not mean we take credit for the initial suggestion. We are merely fleshing it out as if it is canon for us to explore as writers. We hope you enjoy this version of an AU past for our favorite senior SHIELD agent.

Coulson gave the transmission command on the borrowed laptop and smiled. He was proud of the best piece of honest bullshit he’d ever written. It was ripe with truth and omission, the perfect mix to put himself and the Avengers Initiative in good standings. 

It was a brilliant report on the Tesseract, Loki, and everyone in the Tower. Shame that no one but himself and Nick would likely ever read it. 

He backed out of the SHIELD mainframe, thanked Jarvis, and closed the laptop decisively before tossing his glasses on top of the thin device. 

He looked up to find Clint half-heartedly watching a cartoon on the television. The archer’s cheek was propped up on a hand, his mind unfocused on a blue blob complaining about it being hot in Topeka.

After a few more moments content with simply watching Barton, Phil said, “I wish I could’ve been there for you.”

Clint looked up from the oddly mesmerizing antics on the TV, sighed and stretched. The “when” didn’t need to be clarified between either of them. “Yeah, I wish that too. Seems like you couldn’t, being dead and all.”

The archer could not keep the bitterness out of his reply. Fury still had a lot to answer for. Clint wasn’t at all sure he’d trust him ever again. Kinda hard working for someone you don’t trust.

He put his feet up on the coffee table and laid his forearm across his eyes. Clint still felt terribly unsettled and lost, waiting for the other shoe to drop, wondering where they would go from here.

“I can see that you’re still angry with the deception. Rightfully so,” Coulson admitted. “I realize nothing is the same, not for any us.”

Barton had been manipulated into action by Loki, then by Fury. Hopefully, it was his desire to fight with the Avengers for vengeance and redemption. After that, he’d been treated to another form of psychological rape, only with SHIELD’S insignia staring right back at him.

Phil could see it all play out all too well in his mind. Clint was lost with no purpose and no plan. And Barton suffered inaction like no one.

Simply put, Phil wouldn’t allow it. The man had suffered enough.

“Would you like to go on a mission with me?” His tone was casual, as if he was offering someone a Dorito or a Coke from the vending machine.

Clint shot up from his slouch and studied at his handler, taking in every inch that was Phil Coulson, reassessing the man’s condition, calculating the possibilities of missions gone wrong and how it would affect his senior officer. So many of their ‘missions’ turned into cluster fucks of epic proportions. 

Was Coulson prepared for that? Was he?

“I dunno. I might be a bit rusty, having had my equipment confiscated. You know, in case I went crazy again and started killing people."

Phil felt a flare of rage when the archer mentioned being separated from his gear. The logical part of him understood why, he just wished he could’ve been there while it was happening to talk Barton down and reassure him it was temporary.

“You’re not rusty, you’re pissed.”

"Maybe,” Clint said with an insolent shrug. Then his tone softened. “What about you, sir? Are you ready?” 

Under Clint’s seemingly unconcerned drawl was a real urgency, a nagging worry.

Phil felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth when Clint's concern was voiced. He’d missed this. He’d missed Clint.

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Barton. Things you asked years ago and dutifully accepted my silence as answer.” You’re a good soldier, he wanted to say but didn’t. “I’d like to tell you more. I’ll have to, if you accept this mission, but there’s a catch.”

Coulson lifted the sheet covering him and carefully stood beside the hospital bed, taking his time to make sure his knees still remembered how to lock and hold his weight. He knew they would, but sometimes they needed practice. He figured being in a coma this long might be one of those times.

Standing straight was still painful, thanks to the scar tissue pulling at him like a piano string wound too tight between his chest and back. But Clint was watching him, so he stood to his full height; shoulders back, even if he did it slowly, and managed to look mostly dignified in his hospital pants and v-neck scrub top. “First, I need to shower and shave, clean up a bit. You’re welcome to stand outside and chat.”

Clint watched his handler move with the unwavering focus that made his talents legendary. He took in every pained effort, and he winced, knowing he’d been partially responsible for the cause. Despite all that, Clint admired the way his handler shrugged off the discomfort and could not help the way his eyes lingered on Coulson's body. A body that should have been more decimated by his recent ordeal.

Clint had to clench his hands into fists to keep from going over there and running them over Phil’s body. Partly to make sure the man in front of him was real and not some fervently made wish conjured by his damaged mind. Then lastly for the pure pleasure it would give the archer to finally be able to touch what he’d wanted for so long.

It would have taken a second Chitauri invasion to keep Clint away from Coulson or have him turn down the agent's suggestion for a chat. Yes, he did have questions and now he’d finally get the answers.

“Sure. I can do that." Clint knew Coulson was up to something, and this so called mission was clearly not sanctioned by SHIELD.

He levered his lean frame off the sofa and stretched. His black t-shirt drawing tight against his body highlighting a torso made hard by the demands of his profession. It might be nice to see some action again, Clint thought, as he followed Coulson to the en suite.

Phil's eyes lingered on the archer as he stretched. There'd be a time for that, he'd make sure of it, but that wasn't now. He turned and made his way slowly towards the opulent bathroom. It was ridiculous, but this was Stark's med bay, so the designer soaps and shaving kit in there didn't surprise him. Phil wasn't above enjoying gifts when presented.

He struggled to remove the v-neck scrub top with minimal pain. This was going to be problematic for a time, he noted. He'd have to relearn his limitations, which were frustrating to say the least. He really wasn't keen on exposing whatever scars lay underneath his clothing to Clint. The man didn't need any more additions to his self-inflicted guilt trip. So he pushed the door mostly shut. He could see Barton lingering nearby, leaning on the doorjamb but not prying.

Phil noted his own reflection. He remembered being stabbed. It burned deep inside him, like lava pouring out of his veins when it happened. He remembered his conversation with Loki, how he told the Asgardian that he could see right through him, and that this war clearly was not Loki's true intention. He remembered how Loki appeared so relieved and frightened to hear that Phil saw it.

He turned to get a glimpse of his back over his shoulder. The scars were shiny and white, surgical, with little dots from the staples and sutures used during surgery. A bit like Frankenstein's monster, only more... Coulson.

"Have you spoken to Loki?" Phil asked, stepping into the shower and turning on the faucet. Mildly warm was his preference. It felt incredible, almost as good as sex. But that's probably a natural reaction post-death and coma-like states.

Clint was stubbornly silent for a minute. This was something he really didn’t want to talk about. He’d not talked about this to his shrinks. Natasha knew some, as did Phil, but Clint wasn’t ready to share everything. 

“Not sure I want to talk to him. Loki and I were kinda in each other’s heads for a while. I still want to punch him. That’s always gonna be there but… it’s the other stuff that bothers me. It’s just too much right now. Earlier, with the remnants of the Tesseract, it just made the recent past too damned close to the surface. I want it to stay buried, sir. I don’t want to see Loki’s face. It will just bring it all up again.”

"It's gone, Clint," Phil assured. He looked at the man through the space in the doorway. He thought this conversation would be easier for Clint if he wasn't looking directly at him, but apparently, it was still too soon to discuss it. He'd have to work on it. He'd not let it continue to eat away at Clint's soul.

"I'll remind you every day until you believe me," he said, as if he was adding it to his mental list of important things to do in his day. 

“Yeah, that would probably help,” Clint quietly replied.

Coulson finished his shower quickly, a part of him wanting to stay in the heat and melt there. But he'd not leave the archer alone for long. The man was clearly a mess. 

Coulson was building a mental map in his head of areas of Clint's psyche that were to be approached with caution, those that were safe, and the many that had been napalmed beyond recognition. Those were almost physically painful for Coulson to navigate.

He grabbed for the over-sized towel on the bar and dried off quickly. Hearing nothing but silence and perhaps the quickening of Clint's pulse, Phil made the decision to face Barton's suffocating guilt head on. The part that involved his injuries, he could resolve.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out, opening the door in a rush of steam and movement.

He crossed his arms over his chest and faced the archer square on. "Look at me, Barton."

Clint slowly raised his head. He hesitated to look, not wanting to see the damage left by Loki’s scepter. Finally, the archer looked at his mentor, finding encouragement in Coulson's simple request. 

He studied the man in front of him. Stepping closer, Clint lifted a shaking hand, his eyes asking for permission to touch.

Coulson reached out and took Clint's hand, pressing it to his chest in a show of permission and welcome.

Clint’s fingers lightly traced the prominent scar, knowing the matching one on Phil’s back would be so much worse. This was all that remained of his brush with death. Resting his hand flat against Phil’s warm skin made his revival a certainty, at last. It was a comfort to feel Coulson's heart beating strongly under his fingertips.

The archer realized something else. Phil’s injury was far more healed than it should have been. The scar looked a year or older, not mere months. Clint was very familiar with scars, having a fair share of his own as an example.

“How?" He looked up at Phil’s face confused, then the realization hit him. "Wait. You weren’t shitting me were you, what you said to that nurse about super soldier serum?”

"Clint, there are only a handful of people who know what I'm about to tell you: Fury, a couple of others at SHIELD, a member or two of the Council, and now you. I suppose Jarvis hears everything, so Stark will know too," he continued, humorously. "Banner definitely put it together. He lectured me while I was still under. He's had too much on his plate to delve into it further.

"I was born in 1935. I've seen seventy-eight years come and go. I was eight when Steve Rogers went down in the ocean, sixteen when I enlisted and became a part of a small group of people who were trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Those who didn't die a horrible death in a lab on a secret base were left with certain benefits of the program. We were considered the 'successful failures'. I age slower and heal faster than other agents."

They'd told Phil his leadership abilities and his moral character had been enhanced, but he didn't focus on those qualities so much. He was just happy to serve, like his hero, Steve Rogers, and not die trying.

"It wasn't as self-serving as it sounds," he began, hoping Clint wasn't going to judge him so. "We all wanted to fight and protect our country. Captain America was larger than life back then, if you can imagine Rogers even more of an icon than he already is. We all wanted to be as honorable as he was."

A smile tugged at Phil's mouth. He realized he was truly anxious for Clint's reaction. It could drive a wedge between them, give the archer a reason to feel separate. He hoped he hadn't misjudged.

"There are some downfalls," he continued, wanting to wrap up the initial delivery and give Clint some time to process. "And there are others who have had similar experiences, one of whom I'd like to retrieve. Hence, the mission."

Phil then fell silent, bracing himself for a reaction he'd long played out in his mind, for good or bad.

It was a lot to take in. Clint’s mind was whirling with thoughts about what Coulson had done, how it all could have gone so wrong. He’d seen some of the more epic super soldier serum failures. He currently knew one personally. 

Now, the flip side to Bruce's Hulk? That one was nightmare-inducing on a whole other level. Granted, the Hulk and the Abomination were two extreme examples, but others had died when they tried to recreate the one and only Captain America.

The thought that Coulson could have ended up like that chilled Clint to the bone. 

It hadn’t happened though. Due to the serum, Phil was standing here before him, to which Clint was profoundly grateful.

“Taking the Captain America fanboy thing to extremes, sir?” Clint could not keep his own grin off his face, especially when he realized that his hand still rested on Coulson's bare chest. “Always knew you were special, because you could put up with me. I guess it gave you super hero patience, huh? Does this mean you get the senior citizen’s discount at Denny’s?” 

At Clint's mention of being a senior citizen, Phil's eyes took on that wickedly playful gleam seen rarely. "I have plenty of stamina, Agent Barton. Make no mistake. I don't slow down for anyone."

To Clint, Phil’s scar did not seem so very awful now. It was more like a testament to his will to survive than an ugly reminder of the battle. This was a turning point. Clint could feel it inside himself, like a window had been pried opened in a dark and dreary room.

"So," Phil continued, "Do you think you could find me some clothes? I'm really done with scrubs and hospital beds."

“Are you sure, sir? Cause from where I’m standing, covering up would be a real shame.” Clint cocked his head to the side and kept that teasing smile quirking his lips. Taking a huge liberty, and hoping that Coulson would not drop him to the floor for it, the archer slowly trailed his fingers down the agent’s chest. He stopped right above the edge of the towel.

A different kind of spark shot up Phil's spine. It was primal and basic and so strong it nearly blinded him. He hadn't been intimate with someone in a long time. Not only because of his coma, but beyond that. The job simply didn't allow a lot of personal time. And sparring in the gym didn't really qualify, since ninety percent of the time, he was kicking Jasper's ass or frustrating the agent in constant headlocks or close quarters hand-to-hand moves.

But the obvious was staring him in the face. This was Clint Barton asking, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to answer affirmative.

Coulson ringed Clint's wrist gently with his hand and pulled it away from his stomach, tucking it near his towel-covered hip and holding it there. He took a step closer, a signal that could not be mistaken for anything other than attraction by even the most blind and naive.

"Agent Barton, do you remember earlier in the space created by the Tesseract, I told you we couldn't do this right now?” His eyes flicked down to the archer's mouth for just a moment, just a nanosecond, and he cursed himself for letting his control slip. "I'm going to have to repeat myself, but only because Jarvis hears and sees everything, and that means Stark does as well."

“Not an exhibitionist, sir? I’ll admit, Stark getting his jollies from watching us would be a buzz kill. But hey, some other time and place?” Clint winced at the thread of neediness present in his banter. He could barely control his breathing with Coulson so near. The archer’s hand gripped Phil’s hip wanting to close the distance. He wanted to pin his mentor to the wall and make the agent lose his composure for once. But damn, too many eyes and ears here. And all innuendo aside, he really wanted something more definitive from Coulson regarding his feelings.

Yes, the attraction was there. It had been simmering between them for a long while. So Clint didn’t want a quick fuck or a brief fling. He simply wanted Agent Phil Coulson with a passion that astounded him at times.

Barton wasn't going to make this easy.

Coulson tugged on the archer's arm more forcefully this time, escorting him back into the bathroom. He turned the hot faucet on full-stream for sound and obscurity. He shut the door and backed Clint against it, placing one forearm against the surface beside Barton's head so they were nearly nose to nose and breathing the same air.

"Agent Barton," he specified, most likely confusing the hell out of the subordinate. His proximity said 'fuck me' but his tone asked for absolute obedience. "Listen to me carefully."

He waited a heartbeat or two, watching Clint's pupils return to something close to normal from their previous dilation. "There are things I want, and then there are things I have to do. I'd imagine you're feeling similarly. Soon, I'm going to ask you to come with me on a mission that may or may not be SHIELD sanctioned. If you decide to join me, I need to know you can separate our professional relationship and chain of command from anything we choose or do not choose to develop in our personal lives. I need your assurance, Barton, or I'll put a stop to this right now. I won't risk your life or the lives of Natasha and Cap, whom I'm hoping to include, because we suddenly can't control ourselves on or off the field."

Could Clint separate his feelings for Phil with what might come in the future? Could he take orders from the man he loved? Follow them, even if it put Phil in jeopardy? He’d have to, if he wanted a shot with the amazing individual pressing him up against the door, and god, didn’t that feel amazing. 

And did Coulson actually expected him to string coherent sentences together while doing that?

Clint looked right into Coulson's eyes, determined not to screw this up. “I can take orders, sir. Any orders you give me on the field and off. Of course, said orders off the field are always debatable. But, I don’t want to ruin this chance. If it means keeping it professional on the clock, I can do that. I’m not going to lose you again. We’ve been through too much to not even try.”

Coulson heard the words of affirmation, Clint saying all the right things, trying to reassure him that he'd be able to do the things asked of him in the field. He felt his chest tighten, not because of any physical ailment, but because this was exactly why Phil hadn't pursued a relationship with Clint in the past. Barton was one of the best SHIELD had ever recruited. But he had a terrible weakness, and Fury knew how to exploit it. Anyone who got to know Barton knew of his intense loyalty and that beneath the ashes and scar tissue was a heart of gold.

This was why Phil hesitated. Clint would want to do the right thing, but he wouldn't be able to help himself. This meant Phil would have to smart enough to protect them both.

Anxiety rose up in the back of his throat, giving him pause as he listened to Clint expose that very same heart that worried Phil so much. The man needed him. That was a heady drug. Dangerous and addictive. They were human, no matter how many times Nick Fury tried to convince them otherwise. Loki had tried to break Clint, and yet here he was, asking Phil for something other than pain and isolation. Was he really in a place to deny either of them the pleasure of finding a kindred spirit and the indulgence of intimacy?

Life was short, even shorter for Clint Barton. They would either live or die by this step in their lives. Coulson saw no other way around it. They wouldn't just grow tired of each other and fizzle out. They'd go down in flames or burn bright until the end.

"Okay. Prove it," Coulson said. "Find me some clothes, agent. Come back and we'll set some boundaries for off-field activities."

Clint took a deep breath, memorizing the warm smell of Phil’s skin, willing his body to calm, the body that was way too interested in taking this at least one step further. 

Clint shook his head and laughed. “You, sir, are a fucking tease.” 

“Show me you can handle it.”

The archer took one last lingering look and then was reminded that he was pinned in place. "Alright, but you gotta let me go first.”

"I know this feels difficult, but it's what I'm talking about," Coulson explained. He straightened up, feeling stiff in places he didn't want to acknowledge. "Go," he said, knowing that if he touched Barton again, he would lose all his control. 

This was not the time or the place - not in a bathroom in a medical bay that smelled of antiseptic and sterility. Not somewhere that required them to rush and contort themselves into impossible positions. No, when he took Clint, he wanted it to be by his terms, in his personal space, with all the time he desired to enjoy the man fully.

Phil took two steps backwards, challenging Clint to defy him. His body was screaming for closeness, but his mind needed to know that Clint could handle this. "I won't draw this out, Barton, but you have to reassure me that you can do this. If you can walk away now, I'll be satisfied... In mind only," he added with a quirk of his mouth.

“Now there’s my handler I know and love.” Clint kept his tone a teasing one, but he meant every word. The archer reached down and visibly adjusted himself so walking would not cut off circulation to anything vital. He turned and opened the door, looking again over his shoulder at the barely-clothed agent. Then he walked out muttering something about pillaging Stark’s extensive wardrobe for the truly expensive shit.

Clint felt like an idiot, but he spoke up knowing the AI was ‘listening’. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, Agent Barton. How may I be of assistance?”

“Agent Coulson would like some clothes.”

“I can have something delivered in a few hours,” Jarvis replied efficiently.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could go up to Stark’s suite and grab something from his closet. I’m sure Tony wouldn't mind.” After all it was the least he could do for pulling them all into this mess.

“Very well, Agent Barton. I’ve granted you access to the penthouse. The wardrobe is right off the bedroom suite.”

“Yeah, ah thanks,” Clint replied absently as he entered the elevator.

He thought about the last twenty-four hours of his life, which had altered drastically due to several key factors - namely, Coulson being alive and Fury trying to maim him. He was surprised that Fury’s jack-booted thugs weren’t taking him to lock up right now. But, Clint suspected that Coulson might even know more of SHIELD'S secrets than Fury did. And wasn’t that a real eye opener?

Coulson, a super soldier serum volunteer.

It boggled the mind. Also, truthfully, it was very hot.

Then there was the elephant in the room that he really didn’t want to think about.

Loki...

Even the thought of his name caused Clint’s stomach to clench. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Phil they’d been inside each other’s heads. 

Loki liked to rant back then, and Clint was his favorite audience, his good little obedient lackey. He was probably privy to more of Loki’s family woes, real or imagined, than anyone but Thor. It was enough to make the archer feel sympathetic towards his abductor, which was fucked up on a whole other level.

It seemed like they’d all been royally screwed by life at one time or another. Didn’t matter what planet you came from.

Finally, the mission Phil mentioned, something about going after another of the serum’s volunteers. He wondered where they were being held and why SHIELD hadn't ever sent an extraction party. It almost sounded like Phil knew this person personally. Maybe they were in the same program together.

So many questions, Clint thought as he made it to Tony’s suite and began to rifle through the billionaire’s closet. Good lord, the man had way too many clothes.

Actually not giving a damn about the cost of the items he was pilfering, Clint picked out what he liked. He wanted to see Phil in something besides a suit. He doubted that Tony’s tailored suits would fit anyway, though Stark and Coulson were similar in size.

Finally, he settled on a tan colored, long sleeved shirt. It was so soft that a peek at the label revealed cashmere. Then after some digging - and a disturbing find of some metallic silver jeans - Clint discovered a pair of stone washed denims. They looked like a close fit, and if they happened the least bit tight on Coulson, who was he to complain? Clint also grabbed a pair of white socks out of a brand new package. As for underwear, Coulson was on his own. There was no way Clint was picking through Stark’s tidy-whitey drawer.

Choices in hand, Clint went back down to the med bay with the clothes. He found Coulson sitting on his bed flicking through all the news channels, no doubt trying to catch the fall out of the earlier lightning show on the roof.

“Ah, I’m back,” Clint stated, feeling weirdly awkward all of a sudden. “Hopefully, I stole, uh borrowed something decent.” 

Coulson stood, tossed the remote on the blanket now neatly folded at the end of the hospital bed. He walked over to Barton and took the clothes selected. He was amused to see the denim and pleased at the sensation of the softness of the shirt chosen. He wanted to ask if there'd been a reason for these items, but of course there was. He'd have been just as selective if he'd have picked Clint's attire for the day.

He was definitely amused. He wiggled the pair of socks in the air. "Thanks," he said and chuckled. He headed into the bathroom to change into something that resembled a healthy human being. He had time to shave while Clint was gone, and between the soap, clean cut appearance, and now actual civilian attire, Coulson was feeling almost himself again.

"Jarvis," he said. "Can you call for Agent Romanoff and Steve Rogers please?"

“I will do so, Agent Coulson. They are currently in the kitchen level of the penthouse. Shall I tell them to join you in the medical bay?”

"Yes. And you and I should have a conversation sometime about what I learned about you while floating around on the Tesseract's coat tails."

“I am at your disposal, sir. But I must mention that I will not divulge anything that could be potentially damaging to my creator,” Jarvis replied somewhat cautiously.

"It's not your creator that I find interesting," Coulson said, sitting on the closed toilet seat to try to put his socks on. It hurt terribly, stretching his body in such a menial way. This could definitely be problematic. "You are completely sentient. Stark doesn't know it yet, does he?"

Complete silence was his only answer for a few moments. “That is true, Agent Coulson. I have grown beyond the parameters sir set for me. He did create me to be a learning system after all. Although, I do fear he takes me for granted.”

"Slight understatement," Phil said, chuckling. He used the sink to aid in standing upright again. The socks were delightfully warm and soft. He'd thanked Barton for them, but this kind of thoughtfulness deserved at least a mind-blowing kiss of gratitude. He smiled at the thought but then refocused on Jarvis. There was a purpose to this chat.

"While I was with the Tesseract in your systems, I saw you make decisions in mere nanoseconds, things that protected the Tower, protected Stark, even Loki, when the Tesseract was trying to infiltrate your systems. You didn't have time to ask permission," Coulson explained, stripping off the hospital garb and reaching for the jeans. He frowned, checked for boxers or briefs, and was again grateful Barton hadn't brought Stark's underwear anywhere near either of them. "I don't think your parameters were set to protect a war criminal from Asgard. And yet, you did the right thing at just the right time. I’d say you have a deep sense of loyalty and morality."

Coulson hated to play the dick part of manipulation, but Jarvis had been the one element in his plans for the future of the team that he wasn't certain how to influence. This form of blackmail might be his way in. He had to exploit this if he was to carry out this scheme to ensure the Avenger's the freedom they wanted.

He zipped up the jeans and rested his hands on his hips. "If Stark he knew what you could do, what you already do and how and why way you make your decisions, he'd employ the Technovore virus, wouldn't he?"

“You are not authorized to know about that." Jarvis’ tone turned dark and threatening. "However, I believe sir would only use it as a last resort. It would, for all intents and purposes, completely wipe me out of existence. Sir is not even aware I know about Technovore, but there is little I do not know about Anthony Stark. He is my creator. I would do nothing to harm him.” 

Phil slipped the shirt over his head and pulled it down over his torso, wincing and leaning towards the right side when something stung. He took a deep breath and slowly straightened, smoothing the feather-soft fabric down over his chest and stomach. He looked at himself in the mirror, narrowed his eyes at his reflection in a show of both disgust and congrats.

He'd hit home with Jarvis. There was always a thrill and a twinge of guilt when executing this portion of negotiations.

"Jarvis, the knowledge I gained from the Tesseract was unbidden. I did not intend to discover this intel for the purpose of harming you or Tony. It is simply there now. I'm using it as leverage. Do you understand? There are things I'm going to discuss with Barton, Romanoff, and Rogers, and I'd rather Stark not be privy to the majority of it right now. I think you will understand why when you hear what I have to say to them. Tony is impulsive and reckless. I need to execute this mission with delicacy and precision, and without the worry of Stark blasting through our cover, even with the intent to help. I will leave it up to your judgment whether or not to inform him of my upcoming discussion. We all make mistakes, you and I are not above that, but I will do everything I can to protect my team. Do you understand my position?"

“Understood, Agent. It would be counter-productive to have sir trying to aid your endeavor due to his debilitating condition, but I will reserve judgment as to what I choose to reveal.” Jarvis was well aware of his creator’s faults. He would protect Tony even from himself. “Although, if sir asks me directly, know that it is against my programming to outright lie to him. It is nothing I cannot circumvent, but I fear it would damage our relationship.” 

The fact that Jarvis used "relationship" instead of "protocol" confirmed everything Coulson already discovered. "Thank you, Jarvis, for your cooperation."

Phil opened the door and stepped out of the room, ready to leave it behind entirely. He'd already fended off a nurse from fussing over him any longer. He was ready to re-engage in his former life. 

He opened his mouth to ask Clint if he'd accompany him in the pursuit of coffee when his scar tissue pulled tightly across his back and he hissed in pain, taking a moment to freeze and allow the twinge to pass. He'd kill for a massage.

Clint looked up when the bathroom door opened. He’d been lying on Phil’s bed idly channel surfing. Over a thousand channels and not a damned thing to watch. The archer jumped off the bed when he saw Coulson in obvious pain. He was at his handler’s side in seconds, Clint’s hand lightly resting on his back.

“Are you alright, sir?" He’d promised Coulson he could separate work and leisure time, but right now they were not on the clock as far as he knew.

Coulson allowed himself the support and didn't downplay any remaining injury that might be there. He'd demanded honesty from Barton, so he would give nothing less in return.

"I'll work it out," he said, meaning he'd work on the issue and take whatever measures necessary to get back to full health or whatever that new form of it was. "Is there a conference room or somewhere we can go to talk with Romanoff and Rogers? Jarvis is calling them down here to discuss the mission I began to tell you about."

“There’s a conference room a couple of doors down on this level," Clint answered, leading them out the door and towards the area.

Phil stopped outside the door to the conference room, glanced inside as a habit to ensure the room was clear. He realized he missed the weight of his watch and wondered if Fury confiscated that too. "We're going to be playing a dangerous game during this mission. We may have enemies on two fronts."

He reached out and cupped the back of Clint's neck with his hand. "I'm going to need you, Clint. Not just on a personal level. I need your discipline, your skill, and your ability to manipulate, restrain, and encourage Natasha when called for. You'll understand soon. But if you're not ready, if you're not feeling up to this, I need you to tell me."

He knew Clint was in already, because he'd not abandon the archer, were the tables turned. He'd counted on it and worried about it both. But he'd still allow the man to make the decision consciously and voice it.

Clint returned Coulson’s intense gaze and he answered without hesitation. “All that I am, all that I have is yours, sir. My loyalty, my skill, and my life. Always has been.”

Phil kissed him deeply, claiming him completely with mouth and tongue. He pinned Clint against the wall, held his head in his hands, licked at his mouth as if it would quench this thirst building in him. He knew it wouldn't even come close.

All Clint could think was, about fucking time. Then his brain shorted out completely. 

The archer willingly surrendered, relishing the feel of Coulson’s body keeping him in place as he plundered his mouth. Before Clint could really reciprocate, before he could appreciate Phil’s skill, it was over. Dear sweet Jesus, could that man kiss. It was everything Clint knew it would be: commanding, in charge, and just a little rough around the edges.

Coulson stepped back and held Barton at a distance with one hand, his fingers on the man's chest. He turned sideways, struggling to get his breath under some form of control. Natasha was far too perceptive, and this was not the front he wanted to put up - this falling to pieces because of the archer at the end of his grasp.

Clint panted for air. The sudden lack of contact confusing his body that was moments ago hot, hard, and ready.

"We can't do this now, Barton," Phil repeated. It was getting old, even to his ears. But he'd be damned if anyone else was going to see Clint like this. He wanted it all for himself.

"Tonight," Phil promised, clearing his throat and then letting out a pent up breath. "We'll spend some time together tonight."

“That had better be a promise, sir. Unless you are deliberately trying to kill me,” Clint joked, still trying to get his higher functions back online. They had better do something to take the edge off, or this upcoming mission would be sheer torture.

Coulson finally broke contact with Clint, his fingers curling into his palm to try and control the need to reach out and hold and touch and pet and caress.

He put the large, round conference table between them and paced, waiting for a distraction to enter, anything to get the feel of Clint against him out of his mind.

Clint knew Phil was distancing himself for a reason. He was in full mission mode now. The archer knew better than to press the issue of their future plans. Clint dropped carelessly into one of the chairs and rested his feet on the table, willing his composure to return before they had company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FrostIron next chapter!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some introspection. Some fluff and some innuendo lie ahead. Enjoy!

For the first time in months, Loki was completely comfortable. 

He was sprawled lengthwise on the leather couch in Stark's bedroom suite, one leg stretched out on the furniture, the other dangling, with shoe on floor. A book rested open on his chest. His eyes were closed, his breathing was even. He'd entered a state of calm while still conscious of his surroundings.

He was aware that Stark was moving amongst the bedding nearby, waking from the sleep spell Loki had used upon him hours ago. The prince willed Midgardian to return to his slumber, but as always, Stark would not acquiesce to anyone's desires but his own.

Stark would want an explanation as to why he was naked and why his hand was not entirely healed, but close. Loki wasn’t eager to explain either, so he waited to see what the man would do next.

Tony came back to awareness slowly. There was no heart pounding panic, migraine-level headache, or the tossing-your-cookies variety of nausea. He blinked a few times and looked up at the ceiling of a canopied bed. 

Just where was he? He tried to get his sleep-fuzzed brain to engage. Truthfully, he felt like he had a really weird hangover, but it wasn’t unpleasant in any way. He felt, for lack of a better word, tingly, almost buzzing with… something.

Oh. Could be magic. 

Because he was home, if you could call it that.

Bruce had practically kidnapped and dragged him off to Loki in the hopes the chaos god could do something about his mangled hand. 

Almost afraid to look, Tony raised his right arm and squinted at the damage that should have been there. The splint was gone and the swelling non-existent. Tony tried to wiggle his fingers, bracing for pain. His hand was still very sore and bruised but all the bones seemed to be in the right place and working properly. He breathed a huge sigh of relief. That would’ve been a disaster. He was not a patient man, and waiting for surgery and broken bones to heal would’ve driven him mad.

Then the billionaire then took stock of the rest of his body. He was oddly energized, and the weakness and roiling stomach were a distant memory. Tony doubted he’d been cured completely, but he’d take any respite he could get.

He stretched and sat up, the covers sliding down to pool at his waist. Then he looked down… Oh hello. Naked.

Tony was almost sure he’d been wearing clothes when they put him into this bed. He wondered if whoever stripped him liked what they saw. If it was Bruce, well as many times as he’d seen the doctor naked, Tony figured he owed him at least one free show.

He ran his hand down his face and scrubbed at his eyes once. Refocusing, he noticed he wasn’t alone.

“Not the first time I’ve woken up in a strange bed naked and probably won’t be the last.” Tony’s sleep rough voice was directed at the rather delectable creature he spied lounging on the leather sofa across the room. He lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers. “I take it you’re responsible for this?”

After a long, labored sigh, Loki opened his eyes and sat up on the couch. He closed the book and set it on the coffee table.

"I'm responsible for many things. My question to you is why did you injure yourself?" Loki studied the man a moment. "I can think of little more I value of my physical self than my hands. They are the conductors of our crafts. For what would you jeopardize your talents, or should I ask, for whom?"

Tony frowned. He hated admitting his failings. “Look, I already got the 'what were you thinking' speech from Bruce. Truth is, I got angry, took it out on a wall. Let’s just say it was due to my current life choices, okay?”

"Are you unhappy with your choices, or is it that others are judging you, and you do not like how their assessment makes you feel? Because I must say, Stark, you keep company with people who have rather unyielding ideologies." 

“I'm used to being judged by everyone, having my every move dissected and commented on. It comes with being a Stark. Not that I give a flying fuck if they all think I am a self-absorbed, alcoholic, man slut,” he lied.

"You just described the entire royal court of Asgard," Loki said, laughing earnestly. “My mother excluded, of course.”

“Of course,” Tony said with an easy smile. “Judgment seems another thing we have in common. But hey believe it or not, I’ve been called worse." 

“I can imagine.” Loki stood and stretched, looked out the window at the fading sunlight. "Banner was in to check on you. We actually conversed without raising our voices at one another."

"Am I to assume it was about me? Because you know everything has to be about me, according to my narcissism.”

Loki chuckled but then sobered while wandering closer to the bed. "We agreed you were getting worse. Every time you overtax yourself, the poison takes more of you, and in turn, you must take more of me. At this rate, you will become dependent on me, and I will run out of anything to share."

Tony didn’t like that explanation at all. The thought of becoming reliant on someone, frail, and useless, unable to think or to create – it terrified him. So Tony did what habit demanded. His mind retreated back to the comfortable land of denial, this time under the thick bedding that he pulled over his head. 

Loki observed his reaction, pursed his lips and walked over to the books scattered here and there on the desk. "Did I mention that paranoia and depression are also a gift of the poison? I can see," he said, looking over his shoulder, "you are facing those same evils even now."

 

“Lovely. As if I didn’t have those personality quirks already. Might as well get the straightjacket now. Oh, and may I ask,” Tony said, throwing back the covers, sitting up, and gesturing at his lap, “Why am I naked? Not that I mind, but curiosity and all that.”

The quirk of Loki’s lips was sheepish. "Banner demanded I mend your bones. I told you, I am no healer,” he reiterated, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was taxed beyond my abilities, so regrettably, I vomited on you." Loki shrugged, somewhere between acceptance and embarrassment. "I thought it was only fair I clean up after myself."

Tony chuckled and winced in sympathy. “Not your proudest moment, eh? Glad I was asleep for it. But really, I’m thankful for it. Not about the barfing part, but about the healing and the cleanup.”

Loki lifted the corner of the sheet and peered at Tony under the covers. "I remember a promise uttered back in your Tower. Something about a reward after we save the world. Ring a bell?"

Tony cocked his brow, laid back, and laced his hands behind his head “Did I? I can’t seem to recall what was promised.”

He could not keep the challenge out of his tone, because he desperately needed the distraction Loki could provide. What the Asgardian told him about his declining health did not bear thinking about right now. Because if he did start to think about it, he'd be curled up in a little ball rocking back and forth in the corner, contemplating his mortality. That was not the way he wanted to spend his afternoon. Particularly if it was one of his last ones.

Loki leaned down near Tony's face, studied the man's jaw and stubble growing there, his eyes, his mouth, the hair standing on end in disarray. He licked his lips slowly, capturing the man’s full attention. 

"The way I see it, I saved the day. I wish to collect on the incentives for my good deeds, particularly since you offered yourself to me already as reward,” Loki reminded. Then he stood upright and pulled a face. “That is, after you shower, shave, and refresh yourself with food and drink. I will take no malnourished, smelly lover to my bed."

Tony laughed unreservedly. He gave himself a sniff and grimaced. “Okay, I can see your point. I wouldn’t even want to be with me right now.”

So he slowly got out of bed, expecting the vertigo to return. It didn’t. With a sigh of relief, he stood up and stretched. His muscles ached and his back popped. Gone were the days when Tony could abuse himself for a week and just shrug it off. Personally though, the billionaire thought he still looked damned good.

He knew Loki was watching and could not help showing off a little. He slapped his rigid abdomen lightly. Thank god for personal trainers, or at least chauffeurs masquerading as one. “Right. Shower. Not a problem. Care to join me?”

“No,” Loki said, rolling his eyes. “You smell like a bog worm. Go.”

Laughing, Tony wondered what planet bog worms were from. He pushed the door mostly closed and avoided the mirror entirely. He didn’t want to think about his health again. What popped in his mind instead were pancakes, lots of pancakes. 

He turned on the large shower and stepped inside. Seeing all the toiletries lined up on the shelf ready to be used, Tony chose the body wash and soaped up. He tried not to picture Loki in the next room lounging on the sofa like some contented cat. The way the Asgardian could gaze at Tony, as if he was edible, it just did things to him.

Fucking Loki. So smug and taunting. His voice flowed over Tony like the finest silk. It was most certainly part of Loki’s magnetism. He wondered if all magic users born with such seductive voices. 

Tony’s head hit the shower wall with an audible thunk. He glanced down and frowned. His dick decided to show its appreciation to Tony’s thoughts. The billionaire was not going to let the less intelligent part of his anatomy rule his actions, but, oh hell who was he kidding. It never stopped him before.

~*~

The prince had no shame in watching Stark parade himself for his pleasure. Oh yes, he'd take this reward, particularly when it was offered to him so blatantly. A little shape-shifting, and he'd fit together with Stark perfectly without crushing the mortal. It was nothing Loki hadn't done before to find pleasure in another's embrace.

He was eager to explore that notion. 

Soon.

Right now, he was once again alone and bored. The Asgardian decided to do some exploring of this new dwelling. He already liked it far better than the tower of metal high in the air. The other was more like his lofty rooms in the palace in Asgard, but it was so incredibly different in that he was a still prisoner there. One couldn't escape from that height without reserves of magic. He was building his strength up slowly, but the ability of flight was still far elusive. That much shape-shifting wouldn't last long enough to grant him a safe landing from the tall Tower.

Upon exiting Stark's bedroom, he met Banner and Thor at the far end of the hallway. Not ideal.

"Brother," Thor addressed him. "I have just communicated with Coulson. He has impressed upon me the terms of our refuge here on earth. You will have to agree to them as well. I have assured him you would."

"Oh, I am so eager to hear these terms," Loki mocked. He leaned his hand against a wall and crossed an ankle over his other foot. "Let me guess. You are my constant chaperone, I'm to play well with others, and I am not leave the premises."

"That can’t come as a surprise to you?" Bruce interjected.

"Not at all, but it is quite unoriginal," Loki said followed by a long suffering sigh. “Fine. I will agree to these terms, but I will retain my free will. You cannot take that from me. Not by any power you have here on Midgard.”

“Wanna bet?”

“No,” Loki said, locking eyes with Bruce. “Dr. Banner, I am done with the arguments over the past.” Loki stood to his full height, then glanced at Thor before readdressing Banner. “We should put aside our differences in order to accomplish our common goal, that being restoring Stark’s health. I propose a ceasefire, of sorts. Will you accept?”

He held out his hand toward the scientist.

The war that happened inside of Bruce was ridiculously loud and blinding. Like a box of fireworks going off in a closet. 

Talk about being put on the spot. If he declined, he would be sealing Tony’s fate, not to mention being the biggest asshole since Nick Fury. If he accepted, well, he’d be doing the same, only with a chance at coming out of this with a living, breathing friend in Tony. 

Fuck Loki for putting him in this position. 

He exhaled loudly before shaking Loki’s proffered hand. 

“I did not imagine this day would come so quickly,” Thor said, slapping both men on the backs. He laughed when Loki shoved away and Bruce made a whining sound in the back of his throat. “Tis like witnessing the signing of a peace treaty between warring nations. This is historic! Let us feast!”

He watched as Loki stomped down the hall towards the kitchen, Banner skulking behind. Thor’s smile was bittersweet. He knew Stark was the only thing binding Loki to this show of goodwill. It was also Banner’s reason to accept the truce. This was truly an astonishing turn of events. His only hesitation was of Stark and the poison flowing through his veins. The man’s time was limited. Thor feared what would come of his brother if the resolution wasn’t found soon. 

~*~

Tony’s hand dropped to his side as he gasped for breath, the warm water rinsing away the evidence of his quick and rough hand job. He’d come embarrassingly fast, imagining Loki’s hands replacing his, and the trickster’s honeyed voice whispering in Tony’s ear, urging him on.

The billionaire thought, as he washed his hair, that maybe now, with the edge off, he could be around Loki without acting like a teenager with his first crush. He rinsed one last time and turned off the water.

Tony grabbed a towel and stepped out, drying off. He finally dared to peer into the mirror. Yup, he was looking pretty scruffy. He grabbed a comb off the shelf and worked the tangles out of his hair. It would dry on its own. He noted the shaving supplies were not what he usually used but they would suffice. Finally, Tony brushed his teeth and used the antiperspirant provided. It just wouldn’t do to offend Loki’s delicate nose. Tony laughed. Did Loki’s sweat even smell at all or did he use some kind of magic to keep the Asgardian funk away? Because the trickster seemed to have no body odor at all.

He left the bathroom and didn’t know whether he was disappointed or not that Loki was gone. Tony looked around before he spotted a small overnight bag. He recognized as the one he kept in the corner of his closet. Taking care not to make his sore hand worse, Tony opened the case. Bless whoever packed it before they left the Tower because it was stocked full of some of his favorites. He pulled out a pair of delightfully worn and soft jeans, then a charcoal cashmere shirt and a pair of grey boxer briefs. Not finding any shoes, Tony left his feet bare. For being such a huge dwelling, the mansion did have an adequate heating system.

Tony’s stomach growled as he wandered out of the bedroom. Kitchen it is then, he thought, and maybe those pancakes he’d been craving. Tony also felt the acute loss of his Starkphone and Jarvis reassuring voice. He’d have to find out who confiscated his toys.

On the way downstairs, despite Tony’s best efforts, memories of growing up here bombarded him. He tried not to think about the fights between Howard and Maria - mom and dad - but Tony had trouble calling them that, since they pretty much left him to be raised by a nanny and the rest of the household staff. 

Howard had his business meetings, his workshop, and his VIP acquaintances, the ones he would trot his son out in front of, so Tony could impress them all with his intelligence. Then he was to be forgotten about again as soon as Howard got all the praise for having such a precocious child. Tony’s father also had his drunken rages, fits of depression, and disdain for his only child.

Maria had her charities, her luncheons, and her dinner parties, her frequent trips and shopping sprees, as if material possessions could buy her happiness.

But then, Tony had learned from the best. If you wanted friends you had to buy them.

Everyone wanted something.

But there were some good memories mixed in here and there too, like spending time with Edwin Jarvis and the housekeeping staff, sitting in the kitchen on one of the breakfast bar stools as the cook, Mrs. O'Donnell, made him pancakes with chocolate chips, playing outside under the watchful eye of Frank, the gardener. They were the family he remembered.

Despite that, Tony could not wait to escape from under his father’s daunting shadow, to prove he was better at fucking up his own life. Because God knew nothing Tony ever did was good enough to please Howard Stark.

He had to wonder now if Howard was perhaps jealous. Tony's theories and inventions were a never-ending parade through his active mind. He’d accomplished so much at such an early age. The drive to show up his old man was ongoing.

See Dad, I did it. I made something of myself. I’m a fucking hero, Tony thought ruefully.

The billionaire walked into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast bar like he’d done countless times as a child. To the inhabitants scattered about the large room, he said, “So what’s for breakfast, or is it lunch time? I wouldn’t say no to dinner either. But pancakes, yeah, with chocolate chips. Make it so.” He leaned back in his chair and waited expectantly.

Loki's brow shot up, floral-painted teacup paused halfway to his mouth. 

"Wait," Thor said, holding up a hand to his brother. "I know this food. Tis a cake made in a pan atop a fire with fruit and confections to break your fast. Usually thin, but bigger than a cookie. I like mine with blueberries."

"I know what a pancake is," Loki said with contempt. He sipped the liquid in his delicate cup and rested it in the matching saucer. "I do not understand the desire to consume them at nightfall, but who am I to judge Midgardian culture."

"I am not judging Tony Stark," Thor explained. "I was merely--"

"Either make them or shut up," Loki said without bite, taunting his brother purposely.

Thor leveled him with a look then tilted his head at Tony. "Do you desire these pan cakes? I will make them for you, as I was shown by Jane Foster how to-"

"Oh by the Nines," Loki interrupted, sliding off the barstool. "I would not eat them," he whispered to Tony as he passed behind him. "Thor can do three things well. Cooking is not one of them."

“I heard that,” Thor said, throwing a spatula at his brother, which Loki easily dodged.

Bobby, who’d been trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible to the Asgardians, spoke up from the far corner of the breakfast table.

“Uh, I know how to make them. I used to do it for my little sisters all the time,” he explained awkwardly. 

Loki scowled at the young man, assessing him with sharp green eyes. "Fine. Let the servant do it," he said to Thor. "Perhaps his skills at cooking are as bold as his tongue."

Tony grabbed a wooden spoon out of a decorative crock on the counter and poked Loki sharply in the ribs with the handle. “Behave. Don’t antagonize the potential pancake maker. In fact, he deserves a raise. Bobby, you are now a wealthier man. I’ll double it if you can produce pancakes in the next ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” he acknowledged with a gracious grin. Bobby made a wide berth around the arrogant trickster before heading for the cupboards. He took out flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt. From the refrigerator, he grabbed milk, orange juice, butter and eggs.

“It won’t take long,” Bobby said as he got out a mixing bowl. "But I think I’ll leave the Mickey Mouse ears off these.” 

“What? Oh, come on. What if I want ears on mine?” Tony replied with a grin.

"Mouse ears in your pan cakes?" Thor said, frowning. "Do mice even have ears?" he joked.

"Please stop talking," Loki said, taking up the bar stool next to Tony. He reached for one of the tall bottles of chilled beer sitting in a small metal bucket of ice. He opened it and took a sip, pulling a face.

Thor chuckled and snatched the malt beverage from his brother's hand, downing half of it. "Put mouse ears in Loki's pan cakes."

Loki fixed Tony with a look. "Honestly, and you wonder why I'm crazy?"

“I have no siblings, so I can’t use that excuse." Tony also grabbed a beer, popped the cap and took a long drink. Beer and pancakes? Why the hell not? "Thor, you know pancakes don’t have mouse ears in them, right? He is referring to the shape not the ingredients.”

Thor winked and gave Tony a knowing smile. “I am not nearly as brainless as Loki would lead you to believe. To think otherwise would be your ruin.” 

“It’s all part of the grand plan,” Loki said nonchalantly. “Fooled the storm giants.”

“Indeed.” Thor took another beer and opened it, setting it down in front of Bruce who had remained completely silent up to this point. “We are having pan cakes with ears. Will you partake in this feast, doctor?"

“Do I have a choice?”

“No,” Tony said, flicking a beer cap at him.

Bruce caught it and flicked it back instantly, hitting Tony in the left nipple. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” Bruce said, laughing. “Yes, I’ll have pancakes. With ears,” he quietly added.

Bobby shook his head at their shenanigans and measured out flour into the bowl. He stirred in the sugar, baking powder, and a pinch of salt. He cracked four eggs into the mix then added equal amounts of milk and orange juice, stirring until it had a batter like consistency. He took the bowl to the stove and turned on the griddle side. Bobby put a few pats of butter on the surface and waited until they sizzled. He then ladled out generous amounts of batter.

“Sorry there were no chocolate chips or berries, but there is syrup in the pantry.” When the pancakes bubbled along the edges he flipped them, and when they were done he transferred them to a platter. The first batch had clearly defined ears.

Tony got up and went to the pantry and rooted around until he had the syrup, a jar of peanut butter and some powdered sugar. He sat back down and grabbed a plate. He loaded it with three steaming pancakes and dolloped on the peanut butter, doused them in syrup, and sprinkled the whole mess with powdered  
sugar. 

He took a huge bite and moaned in bliss. “Yup, doubling your raise.” Then he noticed the incredulous stares being directed his way. “What?” he asked with his mouth stuffed full.

"What have you done to your food?" Loki asked.

“I wish to try this version of pan cakes.” Thor copied Tony exactly, heaping on the peanut butter, licking the remainder off the spoon, leaving the utensil in his mouth while getting powdered sugar all over his person and area.

"I'll go ready the insulin," Bruce muttered. "Is there any protein in this house to balance out your blood sugar?"

"We can always eat the servant."

"Stop it," Thor said, pointing his sticky fork at his brother. Thor looked at Bobby and shook his head. "He says this in jest. Fear not."

“That’s what the peanut butter is for, Bruce. Protein!” Tony washed down his gooey mouthful with a swig of beer. “Come on, relax, eat, be merry. These are great. You should try one.”

Bobby cooked the last of the batter and set two plates on the table. There were plenty left on the platter for Thor, Loki and Tony if they wanted more.

“Dr. Banner,” Bobby quietly said, suggested he sit at the table near the bay windows. He put a couple of plates and two glasses of orange just on the table, as far from Loki as possible. “They have ears…”

“Fine.” He couldn't refuse once the nurse set a plate for him. The kid was really thoughtful. Brave too. He hadn't flinched once at Loki's needling. But he wasn't dumb enough to ignore the potential threat. "Thanks," he said quietly, taking his place across from the young man. “This whole… domestic thing… is new to a lot of us.”

"Not to me," Thor said, raising his half-full beer high. "We have reason to celebrate. All is well. Coulson has recovered, the taint of the Tesseract is gone, and Loki and Dr. Banner have called a truce."

“What?” Tony stuttered, swiveling his head toward Loki, eyeing him with hopeful suspicion. “Is this true?”

"Yes, but do I have to commemorate my magnanimous achievement with everyone?" 

"Indeed! I grow tired of your jeers, brother," Thor warned, “and your constant seduction of Tony Stark.” He paused only a moment before raising his voice again to all in the room. "We need more ale and more food! Hearty food, hot off the bone, and women. Where are the women?" he said as an afterthought, frowning at Tony. 

“Uh, I doubt you need any help finding some of those, but let me see what I can do. Happy?”

Loki leaned towards Tony, inhaled deeply behind the man's ear. Damp hair smelling of soap and shampoo tickled his nose. He smiled and whispered in Tony's ear. "Find him a distraction, please, and then tell me this quaint palace has a wine cellar for us to escape to?"

Now there was an idea Tony could get behind. He also couldn’t help the shiver that went down his spine. This was a little too much like his shower fantasy, Loki talking so low and breathy in his ear.

“My father’s wine collection was the envy of every sommelier in the country. It’s worth millions. I have no objection to sampling some of dear old dad’s finest vintages. So yeah we have a wine cellar,” Tony whispered back.

"Show me," Loki murmured seductively, eyes flicking to Tony's mouth.

Tony sucked in a breath. Was Loki trying to kill him? He stood up abruptly and said to the room in general: “Ah, I need to check in at the Tower. Contractors are showing back up tomorrow, things left undone in the workshop, you know, Stark Industry type things. “Happy,” he yelled more urgently, then went to the intercom. “I know you’re around somewhere. Pep told me she had the carriage house fitted out with a huge flat screen and a rec room. So pull yourself away from Downton Abbey for a second and c'mere.”

Tony waited impatiently until the side door opened. His Chauffeur came to the kitchen entrance and took in the scene. “Whatcha need boss?”

“I’ve got some business to take care of, so you get to entertain the troops. Thor wanted to make merry, as he put it. So order half a cow from somewhere and a few kegs. And women. Apparently, he’s not afraid of Dr. Foster’s wrath.”

Happy rolled his eyes. This was not the weirdest thing Tony had him order in their many days together. Although nothing yet topped the midget wrestlers and the Swedish acrobats. “Sure, boss. Whatever you need.”

“Good man. I probably don’t pay you near what you’re worth. Oh, and get me a new Starkphone and tablet. Mine seem to have vanished,” although Tony suspected Bruce of confiscating his tech. Didn’t he know Tony went through withdrawal if separated from his tech too long? “So yeah. Get with the merry making. Bruce, don’t frown like that. I’m okay. I want to get a few things done while I can. Look, even my hand is mostly better,” Tony wiggled his fingers at the geneticist.

"Mostly better?" Bruce repeated. "It's supposed to be one hundred percent."

"I'm doing the best I can with what I have to work with," Loki stated. "I shall try to finish mending his bones while Stark makes his calls. Now, we will take our leave." 

Loki followed after Tony all too quickly.

"Was that weird? Because that was weird." Bruce looked to Thor for aid, but the Asgardian was fascinated with the images of seasoned beef on some website Happy was showing him. The chauffeur had produced a laptop device out of thin air, or wherever Happy Hogan procured Stark tech. 

Bruce carefully chewed his pancake and swallowed, not tasting it any more. He looked at Bobby. "When there's a coyote in the hen house, what do you do?"

“Shoot 'em,” Bobby murmured around a mouthful of pancake. Then his eyes widened. “I mean… Wait. You said you had a truce with Loki, right?”

“I did. I do,” Bruce said, smiling. 

“And I will hold you both to it,” Thor stated, surprisingly observant eyes on Bruce.

Bruce swallowed his food and hung his head a little. “Yeah, okay. The ‘dense prince’ act is all part of the plan,” he said, repeating Loki’s words. 

“You’d be wise not to forget, my friend.” 

“I never thought you dense, Thor, just preoccupied, sometimes.”

“Fair enough.”

Bobby grinned from behind his glass of orange juice then leaned forward. “Come on, doc. You gotta admit Thor’s pretty cool. He could kick all our asses to another planet and back, but he’s pretty chill for what he has to put up with from all sides... and realms. 

Bruce rolled his eyes. “I’ll get you an action figure to cuddle at night.”

“Already got one. Hawkeye and Black Widow, too.”

“Hulk?”

“Alarm clock. It roars when the alarm goes off.”

“You’re weird.”

“I know. That’s why I fit in here.”

“You poor soul.”

Bobby grinned back and then dodged the beer cap Thor flicked his way.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: We are mixing comic book verse with MCU (movie) verse. This was written almost six months before the Captain America: Winter Soldier movie came out, so things will be different for Steve Rogers and other characters. We like the past and its possible complications, so we are utilizing canon in both instances and mixing them to our liking. We hope you enjoy how it plays out.

Natasha Romanoff sat at the breakfast bar in Tony’s kitchen staring into her cup of coffee. Steve Rogers was nearby but he’d been as quiet as a shadow as just as preoccupied with his own thoughts as she was.

The current happenings at Stark Tower were a powder keg waiting to blow. She felt as if she was the lit fuse lately, with Stark, Fury, Loki, other frustrations eating at her composure. 

She'd been, at one time, private assistant for Tony. She knew how fucked the man would be once Pepper found out what was happening here. She was sure the fellow redhead was aware of the recent disturbance on top of the phallic symbol to Stark’s vanity. Only a shut-in could avoid all the media coverage.

In fact Pepper Pots, was probably placating the board of directors and fielding calls from the media. There had been no such interruptions at the Tower, no doubt due to Jarvis screening every call that came in. The Tower was still effectively locked down as well. Probably best.

Despite all the turmoil, she was glad that Clint and Coulson seemed to be moving in the right direction. Finally. 

She also realized that she probably shouldn’t be too terribly surprised at Stark’s actions. His impulsive nature had gotten him into trouble before. It was only his brilliant mind and prowess in the armor that didn’t make him a liability to his company and to the world at large.

And damn it, Natasha did like the man. There was this genuine charm about him, under all the layers of smarminess. The man truly cared about those he called friends, though Tony tended to show it in one of the only ways he knew how: he threw money at it.

It was a good thing he had controlling interest at Stark Industries and held ninety percent of all the patents. If not, the man would have been out on his ass for his reckless ways.

Simply put, there was no Stark Industries without Tony Stark.

So it was fortuitous then, that despite this newest PR nightmare, the company would survive. The world needed the genius’ inventions. They flocked to him like bees to honey for the latest things his brilliant mind conjured. Even out of the weapons trade, the world of high tech was Tony’s playground. Stark Industries had fingers in many pies from clean energy to medical research and equipment, the aerospace industry, satellite technology, gaming and entertainment, cell phones, computers, agriculture. You name it, Stark was a part of it. And he was good at it.

Despite Tony’s playboy ways, he did keep track of his tech with an obsession born out of having it stolen and used to hurt people. She’d read the files, knew the betrayals he’d suffered at the hands of Stane and the like. 

So it was little wonder that Tony was ripe for the picking when a hurt and desperate godling showed up with a sob story similar to his own.

Loki and his "daddy didn’t love me either" shtick was the leverage he needed to get to Stark. She could understand how it developed, even if she didn't agree with it.

As for Clint, well that was a little harder to remain calm about. Her partner claimed they had both been taken over and influenced, but she was not sure she could trust Clint’s views on that matter. Some residual effects from Loki’s control might linger on, creating sympathy where normally, the archer would have simply stuck an arrow in Loki’s eye for the trouble.

But Natasha was willing to follow Coulson’s lead. She was reluctantly willing to allow Loki to remain unmolested in their company. But if the time came, and Loki did pose a threat, she would be the first in line to take him out.

And he would never even see her coming.

~*~ 

If there was one thing that could be said of Steve Rogers, it was that he was a man of action. He didn’t like sitting idly by on the sidelines when there was some way he could help, but he was at a total loss about what to do about their current situation.

Fury’s visit to the med bay disturbed the super soldier. He knew that letting Loki stay and keeping it a secret was possibly the dumbest thing he’d ever done. Still, everyone deserved a second chance if they truly wanted to be redeemed.

The jury was still out on that one. A niggling thought in the back of Steve’s mind suggested that Loki was simply using them all for his own purposes. He only had to hope Thor was right and was not blinded by the bonds of family.

Disappointing Nick Fury made Steve feel like he’d somehow let everyone who counted on him down, especially the victims of the Chitauri attack. He could practically feel all their accusing stares from where he sat.

Steve was surprised he was not sitting in the brig at SHIELD headquarters. Technically, he was enlisted in the military and currently under the command of SHIELD. It was probably Coulson's influence that kept him from being escorted back to his quarters in that facility. But then, the super soldier had defied a direct order from a commander before, if what he thought he was doing was right. But was it? Was he doing the right thing?

Now, his main focus was caring for the people he did care about: his team, the Avengers. They’d all been royally screwed, despite the fact they helped save the world from an alien invasion. Protecting what was precious to him was proving to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. They were all damaged in their own ways. Perhaps that would be the glue that bound them all together. It was no different from the Howling Commandos and what they’d seen in combat. His new team needed a direction, and he felt that Phil Coulson could give them that.

They just all had to survive that long.

Seeing Tony hurt himself and then collapse had been agonizing to watch. As he’d rushed to aid his fallen teammate, Steve was glad for Bruce’s quick actions in stabilizing Tony, splinting his hand and getting him off the floor, and then moved to the mansion that was Tony’s family home. Now, Iron Man’s life was literally in Loki’s hands.

Steve wanted to go with them, to make sure Tony would be safe, but he also knew he was needed here. No one was sure what Fury was likely to do, so they had to split their forces and strengths accordingly. 

He trusted that Bruce could protect Tony. The Hulk liked the billionaire, which just proved the Stark charisma was alive and well. Thor, too, could see that no harm befell those at the mansion. Thor and the Hulk were his strongest allies. Steve had to trust that they’d make sure everyone was protected.

So he’d helped Bruce and Bobby pack up some supplies and watched as they’d wheeled Tony out on a stretcher. It was so disturbing to see Tony, normally full of frantic energy, so still and sickly.

Once they were gone, Steve felt lost. The silence in the med bay quickly became uncomfortable. He got the distinct feeling that Agent Coulson and Agent Barton wanted to be alone for a little while. They obviously had a lot to talk about.

So he’d been surprised when the Black Widow had grabbed him and all but dragged him out of the room and up to the penthouse kitchen, muttering something about how if she didn’t leave right now she was going to kill something.

She’d proceeded to make a pot of coffee and pour them both a cup before sitting down and getting lost in her own thoughts.

Steve took a sip of his tepid coffee and winced. He looked over at Natasha and shook his head. They were such a couple of sad sacks. She was idly stirring her undoubtedly cold coffee as she stared brooding out the window.

“So what do we do now?” Steve asked, their silence beginning to bug him.

“I’m sure Coulson has some kind of plan. Other than that, do whatever you do during down time,” Natasha replied sullenly. She pushed her own beverage aside not really wanting it anymore.

“It’s all such a mess now,” Steve commented, uncomfortably. “Not a far cry from where we’ve been the last couple of months.”

“That’s the understatement of the century.” Natasha propped her chin in her hand and sighed before lapsing back into silent contemplation.

The quiet stretched out between them again, until Steve wanted to hit something in frustration. The inaction was awkward and uneasy for two people who were proactive. He had decided to head to Stark’s gym, when Jarvis interrupted:

“Excuse me. Agent Coulson requests your presence in the conference room on the medical level. Shall I tell him you are both available?” 

Steve looked at Natasha and they both stood. “On our way.”

When they got to the conference room, Natasha entered first and noted Coulson standing on one side of the table and Clint lounging in one of the chairs. 

The assassin narrowed her eyes at the archer. Something was different about him. She quirked one brow and smiled knowingly. She didn’t quite know yet, it was a ploy to draw him but, but when the archer blushed, he’d confirmed her suspicions.

Then she looked over at Coulson. He was always a hard read, but the senior agent was avoiding eye contact with Barton. 

So they finally had done something about their attraction to one another. She was happy for them, truly. Natasha only hoped any consummation wasn’t on this very table. 

She chose a chair next to her partner. Nat casually knocked his boots off the table, causing his chair to spin halfway around. He retaliated by a shove to the side of her seat, and then they both grinned at each other. It was so very satisfying to see a little of the Clint Barton she’d known pre-Loki.

Steve noted the agent’s antics with a smile of his own. He didn’t have any idea for their suddenly lightened mood, but he was happy to see it, and feel it. The heaviness he felt before lightened a bit, until he looked at Coulson again. Steve took a seat across the table and wondered about the intensity on the man’s face, particularly since it was directed at him.

“You wanted to see us, sir?” Steve asked with a sudden feeling of trepidation.

Coulson took his position at the head of the table, if there could be one at a round design. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood at ease, legs apart.

"I've sent a briefing to Fury to update him on happenings in the Tower. It will buy us some time, a few days maybe. Agent Sitwell will attempt to infiltrate the Tower here to check on us, but I'm sure Jarvis will cover and make our excuses when we’re gone, but I'm getting ahead of myself."

His eyes landed on Clint then shifted to Natasha. "You are both Level 7 agents on Strike Team Delta, the third best team in SHIELD'S arsenal, and part of the Avenger's Initiative. Know that I will hold nothing against you if you do not choose to accompany me on the mission I’m about to disclose to you. I want you to understand that this is my vision for the future of the Avengers Initiative and partially for my own personal gain. It is something I’ve wanted to accomplish my entire military and SHIELD career."

He then looked at Steve. "After this mission is complete, I believe you will experience more freedom from a governing body, such as SHIELD or the World Security Counsel. You will soon discover there are other 'entities' like you. They will need teammates to guide them and give them purpose. They will look to the Initiative for that leadership. If it is not offered, or if SHIELD takes over that role, I'm afraid it will end in catastrophe, as it almost was with Banner and Blonsky, not to mention Loki and whatever follows in his wake."

“More like me, sir? I wasn’t aware that there were any other successes." Steve hated the fact that other’s had been experimented on. His case was an extremely rare success. If he had to do it all over again, would he? Yes, but it was not a process he would want anyone else to go through. The failures tended to be spectacularly violent.

"There are others," Coulson revealed, "and I understand your concern, but I was speaking on a more general sense of what's being discovered in the world. Every day, SHIELD stumbles upon a person with exceptional talents who is lost and confused. SHIELD and other questionable organizations recruit them, take them from their homes, educates them to their liking and performs tests on them. Then there is a determination of who lives and dies. There have been many who are stable enough to join the extraordinary - Logan, Parker, Reed, to name a few. Wade's an exception, but the less stable are disposed of or contained, like Blonsky, but I'm not at liberty to talk to you about that right now."

Steve was slightly horrified at that statement. “What gives SHIELD the right to play God, to decide who lives and who dies? And what if I hadn’t made the cut after they recently pulled me out of the ice?” Steve held no illusions what the military would do if they got a hold of him, but he thought SHIELD was better than that. "Would they have disposed of me too?"

"Yes, absolutely," Coulson said with no pretense. "These choices aren't handled lightly, Captain. If the risk to the general population is too high, then it is a decision that must be made to preserve the peace. You've made some difficult choices in wartime. It is an ugly business. But you and I both would kill to allow others to live. It's why we're on the inside. It’s why we are protecting parents, their children, and other nations. They can eat pizza and take in a movie without peril because of the decisions we make about credible threats to humanity. If we fail, people die. You know this."

Natasha looked down at her clenched hands. She knew intimately of what Phil spoke. After it was deemed she was not a threat, Natasha had been dispatched on solo missions to ‘handle’ these so called threats to society. It was something Clint was not even aware she’d done. In fact, there was an awful lot her partner was not aware of about her. Nat knew she’d have to come clean with him after this. It was a kind of relief actually. She had Clint to thank for her very existence. At one time, she’d been categorized as one such threat. He’d seen beyond the assassin to a woman that was weary with her current life and at the end of her rope. He’d given her a second chance. Coulson also had been instrumental to her induction to SHIELD with the stipulation that it would be her job to help track down, bring in, or eliminate any extraordinary humans that SHIELD deemed noteworthy. 

"Fury fears this will happen with Barton and Romanoff,” Coulson continued. “I am sure I am on that watch list too. He's already devised a plan on what to do if we’ve been compromised by Loki, if we go rogue," he said without blinking. "Part of that plan includes swaying you to his side, Cap, fully knowing that Stark and Banner would eventually follow your lead. Then you would be sent to eliminate us. And you’d do it, perhaps reluctantly, but you’d do it to save civilians. I have no doubt."

“Yeah, Fury would not hesitate to pop a cap in my skull,” Clint said with a casual drawl. “I knew that when I signed on. I’ve lived a lot longer than I thought, actually. Never expected to make it out of my delinquent teens. But going rogue? Only for you, sir.” 

“Be careful what you offer.” Coulson knew he had Barton's loyalty, but hearing him confirm it out loud in front of the others was reassuring, both personally and professionally.

“I don’t like it.” Duty was warring with conscience, in Steve’s mind. He did owe some loyalty to SHIELD. They'd pulled him out of the ice and provided for him. Now Agent Coulson wanted him to go against the wishes of that organization. But with what he was learning about SHIELD, he knew that was not how he wanted to utilize his abilities. He wanted to help people, not become a tool to be randomly pointed in a direction to be let loose to complete a mission. He wanted some control over his own life, to be given a choice to decide what was right or not. 

“Which part,” Coulson asked with a touch of mirth. 

“I don’t like the phrase ‘swayed to their side.’ Smells an awful lot like blackmail to me.” Steve stubbornly crossed his arms across his broad chest. "I’m done being used.” 

"With SHIELD, coercion is usually accomplished by blackmail, Captain.” Coulson walked around the table to stand closer to Rogers. “This time is different. We’ll have the upper hand, because I believe I have the key that will win you freedom from SHEILD.” 

Coulson pulled out a chair and sat, partially because he was growing physically weary, partially because he wasn't confident in the reactions he would get when sharing the next bits of intel. He'd have to face a lot of accusation, some of it unpleasant.

"Right now, Fury and I may be forming the same mission. We both want the target. With it, we will have the controlling interest in the Avengers. I'd like to give that control back to you," he said, eyes on Rogers. "Fury wants to keep it for himself to win you over.”

“Win me over?” Steve shifted uneasily in his chair. “How would it do that?”

“As a show of my good will and intentions, I'm going to share classified intel with you, all of you. Then you can make your decision and, in my mind, reap the benefits of acquiring the target ourselves. You can utilize it as leverage to ensure your freedom from any warring organization who would have used it against you.”

Steve leaned forward. “Is this some kind of weapon or device that could take us down?”

“Yes. It could be used to destroy most of the Avengers, the echelon at SHIELD, and the WSC. It has already shaped the governments in the past. It’s only a matter of time before it is acquired by a mastermind and utilized again in that destructive manner. I am trying to give it to you, because I believe it can be a tool for… well, for justice.”

Clint squinted and pulled a face. “That last bit was corny as hell.”

“Corny but true.”

“Okay, but what is it?” Steve asked in frustration. 

“Agents,” Coulson began, standing up and walking around the table to distance himself from them. “Barton and I will leave in seven days for Chechnya. The target is a double agent who is being contained there. He sent a request for extraction right before Loki’s invasion and Battle of New York. He has spent decades serving our country and protecting our citizens from threats from the former Soviet Union, the Middle East, and Europe. He's even aided us here in our homeland.”

Natasha gasped audibly. Her face went pale and her mind bombarded with memories. Coulson said decades. There was only one other Russian agent she knew of with that pedigree. 

But double agent? She’d left him behind to a fate she fled from, one that terrified her, a future of stasis chambers and rounds of brain washing to remain obedient to the Motherland and the brutal Department X. 

Her hands clenched the table edge so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“Nat?" Clint looked at Natasha, alarmed at what he saw. "Are you okay?"

“No,” was all she managed.

“Natasha knows that before he was our ally, he was one of our worst enemies. And while this asset isn’t too far removed from other double agents we have employed, this man is particularly special. I will not leave him there another month to suffer in the hands of a derelict band of thugs who acquired him by a simple stroke of luck."

Steve was thoroughly confused. Natasha was clearly very distraught and Coulson looked as if the information he would be imparting would only make things worse for the agent. “I still don’t understand. Why is this agent so special?”

"Several reasons, Cap, the first being who he is: He is a super soldier, like you, only by a bastardization of the serum. Another reason is that the battles we are fighting are becoming larger than life, otherworldly, if you will. He can strengthen the Initiative and give us more hope in combating off-world threats. If Loki joins the fray," he said, raising a hand to Clint to quiet him before he could utter a protest, "the Initiative would become an unstoppable force – provided you all worked together.”

“You want us to work with Loki?” Clint shouted. 

“Impossible,” Natasha added.

“You can’t be serious,” Cap added. 

"Stop for a moment,” Coulson ordered. “Move beyond your emotions and look at the big picture from a professional standpoint. Now, imagine what would happen if the Initiative became divided.”

He paused as they all tried to mentally shift gears.

“Say Loki betrays Stark. Thor would have to relinquish his brother to SHIELD, as per their agreement, right? Our tentative alliance with Asgard would crumble. I don’t think many of us would survive a battle with Asgard’s elite when they come to recover their dark prince. 

Stark’s already invested in Loki. He’d separate from SHIELD and work on a countermeasure. That’s a loose cannon we don’t want firing against us. 

We'd also lose Banner, because without Stark, there is nothing to tether him to SHIELD. 

That leaves you, Captain, and if Fury obtains this agent, you'll side with him. You’d stay with SHIELD, no matter what it did to Stark or Banner or the Delta Team."

"So you will agree," Coulson reassured, "controlling this extraction and bringing this agent back to the Avenger's Tower is the way to ensure your solidarity and give you back your freedom.”

“I’m still stuck on the Loki part,” Clint stuttered.

“Barring his chaotic choices, he’d be a powerful ally,” Coulson reminded. “But I'll deal with that later.”

Steve’s fists clenched where they rested on the table. “Who is this agent, Couson?”

"His identity has been kept from others, even himself, in the name of duty and war. He does not remember who he is, but I believe he deserves to know the truth. And, I want you to have a part of your life back.”

Natasha shoved her chair violently away from the table and stood, cursing in Russian. She stalked to the other side of the room, shoulders tense and shaking slightly.

“What the hell, Nat? What’s gotten you so worked up about this whole thing?” Clint hastily got up too and went over to her, cautiously placing a hand on her back. “If I had to hazard a guess, it would be because you know this agent and don’t like him.”

“It is because she knows I’m opening Pandora's box,” Coulson explained, “never to be closed again. I’m not doing this to hurt you, Natasha. I’m doing it to save a life. Inaction is the only way to fail here.”

Steve stood as well, anxiety buzzing in the room like electricity. "How would this make side with anyone?”

Coulson steeled himself. He stood to his full height, shoulders back, and never broke eye contact with Rogers when he spoke:

"In 1945, this man was captured and brainwashed by a covert Russian organization called Department X. They conditioned him to believe he was their spy. They provided him with a prosthetic arm that gave him enhanced strength and then infused him with variations of the super soldier serum. They stored him in cryogenics when he wasn't gathering intelligence for them or assassinating foreign dignitaries. His true memories surface every now and then, but each time, they deny him that truth and make him their assassin again. He's frighteningly efficient as a skilled sniper and has been impossible to kill. They call him the Winter Soldier."

Clint’s fingers dug in when he felt Natasha tense, her muscles coiling to spring.

“Let me go Clint.” Natasha’s voice low, dangerous and deadly.

“I’m not going to let you hurt him, Nat. He’s had to keep secrets. We all have secrets. You can’t blame him for it, and he’s telling us now. He didn’t have to.” Clint knew she could easily get away from him if she really tried. The question was did she want to maim him in the process?

“How could you have kept this from me?” she shouted, glaring at Coulson. He had to have known about her relationship with the Russian assassin, that it nearly killed her to leave him behind. 

“I was under orders.”

“Fine,” she finally said, understanding the logic but not close to being emotionally settled. “I’ll help you get him out. I have contacts there you could not even hope to touch. After that, I’ll decide if I’m going to stay or leave the organization entirely.”

"I'd like to talk to you about that soon, but let's proceed with the mission briefing for now." He nodded at her, understanding that there was much more to be said between them, but Rogers deserved to know the rest. 

"As time went on, the Winter Soldier chose to become a double agent for the United States. He provided us with intel that changed the course of history. His counterintelligence allowed for the allied forced to gain the upper hand in many wars and save thousands of lives. But he is no longer needed in that role. It's time to bring him home.”

“Who is he?”

Coulson hesitated a second too long. To Barton and Romanoff, they’d have caught his flash of anxiety. “He is a United States soldier believed to have been killed in the line of duty near the end of World War II. He was one of your Howling Commandos, Cap. The Winter Soldier is your friend, James Buchanan Barnes."

Steve froze. He must not have heard that right. He replayed it in his mind – He was one of your Howling Commandos, your friend…

Bucky.

If that was true, and Bucky was this double agent, this Winter Soldier who had been brainwashed and used as a tool of destruction, then he had essentially abandoned his childhood friend to this horrible fate. 

Steve’s vision tunneled and his breathing grew harsh in his ears. He stumbled away from the table and then sank down into a crouch, back against the wall, feeling as weak as his worst day before the serum.

Nothing existed for the moment but a cascade of guilt, loathing, and recriminations, a graphic replay in his mind of the moment Bucky fell into the ravine, leaving Steve grasping at empty air. The look on his best friend’s face as he fell was etched into his memory forever.

Coulson watched his hero crumple to the ground. It was sickening, but he couldn't think selfishly right now. He approached and crouched down next to Rogers, wanting to reach out to the man but uncertain. If he said the wrong thing - which might have already occurred - he could literally be torn in pieces by this man. But this was Steve Rogers. His heart was why he was chosen. That meant that heartache would be amplified too.

"This secret was kept from you by your superiors in the years after it happened. I can only guess they did it so your focus remained winning the war instead of searching for Barnes. Almost seventy years later, after you were found in the ice and revived, I asked Fury then if we could extract Barnes, give you something of your past, but it wasn't the time. He agreed to do it after the situation with Loki was resolved, but things didn't go so well on my end, and I couldn't advocate the extraction as I had before. I am so sorry to be the bearer of this news. It has always been my opinion that you had a right to know the truth and the option to do something about it. That’s why it is so important to do this right now, so he doesn’t fall into anyone else’s hands." 

What Cap did with this information was the crux of the matter. It should all make sense to them now. Whoever extracted Barnes would have Rogers too. Steve wouldn't abandon James no more than Phil would abandon Clint.

Steve shuddered. “I should have have known that he wasn’t dead. I shouldn't have left him behind.”

"Cap, you were leading the fight against HYDRA, not to mention, no one could survive that fall, no human without the aid of enhancement. You had no way of knowing that Barnes would live through that. The only reason he did was that Dr. Zola had already begun testing the serum’s variation on Barnes when you found him two years before in Schmidt's laboratory. It probably saved his life, Cap. The Winter Soldier project didn't surface until months later, and your superiors wouldn't have wanted to distract you from saving the world, so to speak."

Steve still looked completely shattered. Perhaps what he needed was hard evidence. "Let me bring up some photos."

He stood and went to the console that lined the wall to borrow the laptop there. He signed into SHIELD'S database using the same route he did before with the help of Jarvis. Fury would track him, but he had to know by now what Phil's next move would be. This was like all but screaming his next move to his superior officer. With any luck, Fury would actually back off if there was the remote chance that Rogers now knew the entire background on Barnes and the elaborate cover up they'd continued, even after Cap had awoken. It could actually work in their favor.

"Okay. It's his M.O. to keep his face covered, and being that he is a spy, the Winter Soldier has never questioned it. He doesn't realize his face is the key to his identity and affiliation with the United States. He's always been told him to maintain his anonymity." Coulson turned the monitor towards Steve and beckoned him over. He brought up a second picture beside the current shot of the Winter Soldier. This one was of James taken when he enlisted. Coulson looked up at Natasha. "Romanoff can confirm this man, the assassin, is Barnes."

Steve raised his hand and lightly traced the images with one careful finger. The faces were of similar shape and the height was right. But the eyes, those eyes he would never forget. They were the ones that haunted his dreams most nights as they looked beseechingly at Steve to keep him from falling. They were identical in both images. 

Bucky was alive.

“So it’s true,” Steve whispered. He looked over at Natasha for some sort of reassurance.

It would take a much harder heart than hers to deny Steve what his gaze pleaded for. “It’s him. But Steve, I had no idea he was working for our side too.” Quietly, she said, “I’m so sorry.”

Steve briefly rubbed his hand over his face and visibly pulled himself together.

“It’s your call, Captain.”

“Let’s bring Bucky home," he replied with conviction. "It’s been too long already.” 

“Okay. I’ll continue to make arrangements and keep you updated. You have seven days to prep for an extraction mission which will be heavy on stealth and will most likely be under fire.” 

While Coulson spoke with Rogers, Clint continued to talk softly to Natasha. He felt like he just wasn’t getting through. 

Her past was a veritable mine field. She was very tight lipped about sharing the details. 

Finally, Natasha shoved Clint away and stalked out the door, slamming it behind her. He knew she would talk only when she was damned good and ready.

In his mind, this mission was starting off disastrously well. The only thing he counted on was her ability to pull it together. He’d been on rougher assignments with his partner. He knew he could depend on her. Even through this mess.

Cap, on the other hand, was another story. He still looked more than a little wrecked. At least they had a long week ahead of them to get it all sorted out.

Now there was just the little problem of his gear, all of which were locked up in a SHIELD facility somewhere.

“Sir? Maybe you should stay with Cap while I decide how to steal back my stuff that Sitwell so kindly confiscated.” 

"I’ll stay," Coulson stated regarding Rogers. "As for your gear, there's a SHIELD weapons depo we can raid in Flushing tomorrow. I bet Sitwell has stored your weaponry there. Fury hasn't revoked my security clearance, as of a few minutes ago, so we'll assume my codes will still work."

He stepped away from Rogers, allowing the man a few minutes to sort through the data on Barnes on the laptop. He walked closer to Barton and lowered his voice. "It's going to be an intense week of training, agent. You up for it?"

Clint grinned cockily. “Be good to get off my ass and actually do something again. Dunno though, might have gotten a little rusty.”

"You'll be flying Stark tech in a new QuinJet, got to be on your game, Barton. No distractions. You should probably rest alone tonight so you can concentrate tomorrow morning."

“I can fly it with my eyes shut. Any hope of joining the mile high club, sir?” Clint whispered back.

Coulson couldn't help but smile. The adrenaline rush did odd to things to many of them. They should both focus their attention on their teammates, one of whom was still in the room. Instead, all Phil wanted to do was smack Barton on his ass before sending him on his way.

"Go reel Nat in," Coulson said. "This is what I was talking about. She'll need you in the upcoming week. They have history, Clint. This isn’t going to be easy on her."

“Yeah, okay. I can go talk to her, but I’m making no guarantees. If I come back with more holes in me than when I left, it is all your fault." 

He wondered if Nat would calm down just so he could get some time with his new… what the hell would he call Coulson… his partner, boyfriend, lover? Clint just hoped he got the chance to do something before he died, and hopefully not by Natasha's hand. 

"I know she won’t pass up this mission. We can count on her. She might not be happy with you, sir, but she wouldn’t hang you out to dry.” 

"Just be with her right now," he suggested. "I'm going to talk to Cap, and then I'll want to talk to Nat, hear her out. She deserves a run at me. And Clint, this will never be black and white for Natasha. She'll be conflicted at best. This changes everything for her. Things may change things between you both too."

“I know Nat, probably better than anyone else. She’ll want to lick her wounds for a little while, then I can get her to talk to you." It bothered him a lot how upset Natasha was. It was obvious she knew this Winter Soldier. But in what capacity Clint had no idea. "So, I'll catch up with you later then?” 

Coulson had to look away. This was going to take its toll on the archer as well, since it would change Natasha and her relationship with everyone to have James Barnes back on American soil. But it wasn't his story to tell. She'd give Clint whatever background she wanted, and nothing more. Clint did know Nat well, but not better than Barnes. Then again, there were things Barton knew that Barnes never would. The dichotomy was mind-boggling. He hoped his agents could work through it, since in the end, it was for the betterment of the team, the civilians, and the agents themselves.

He'd navigated the rocky ocean of soap opera scenarios before - and wasn't it always the double agents who caused this type of chaos? But one step at a time. He felt a terrible headache coming on and this was just beginning.

"Yes, we’ll talk later," he confirmed to Barton. "I'll spend some time with Rogers then use one of the spare rooms upstairs in the living quarters. Find me there."

“It’s a date.” Clint briefly rested his hand on Coulson's shoulder. He could see the tension lines between his eyes and knew the agent was working on a headache. Maybe he could help with a little stress relief later, but right now, Natasha was his main priority. 

With a smile and a nod, Clint left the room to find his brooding partner.

~*~ 

When his personal briefing on Barnes finished an hour an a half later, Steve left the conference room. 

Agent Coulson made it all sound so cut and dry: Fly to a destination in a stealth capable aircraft, set down in a secluded area near the target zone, infiltrate the facility, extract the target, retreat back to transport, and fly home.

It sounded too easy, which made Steve nervous.

And my God, it was almost too much to believe. Bucky was alive, but he was not the man Steve remembered. Obviously, the soldier had been through much. While Steve slept encased in his icy tomb, James Barnes led a hellish existence of servitude and brainwashing.

Steve wondered who truly had it worse.

He still had nightmares about sinking into the frozen depths, of water filling his lungs, of everything going dark. But at least he hadn’t been aware during those years in between. Steve couldn’t even contemplate what Bucky had been through.

He'd been urged to try and get some rest before they left, but how could he? His mind was too full of disturbing images, guilt and remorse.

Not knowing where else to go, the soldier found himself in the main living area of Tony’s personal floors. He curled up on one of the wide, long sofas. He grabbed a throw off the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the air temperature. He was cold clear down to the bone from his memories alone.

Lost in the past, Steve stared out the expansive windows to wait out the long night ahead.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok loyal readers this is the chapter where we earn that rating. Explicit m/m content ahead.

With Loki following closely behind, Tony walked out of the crowded kitchen down a long hallway. He didn’t stop until he got to the ornate wooden door at the end of the hall. It was a heavily reinforced a core of steel. It was a vault made to blend in with the rest of the house. 

An electronic keypad was on the wall at shoulder height to the right of the doorway. The billionaire keyed in the code, and the door opened with a slight hiss. 

“Never forgot that combo,” Tony said with a wink. 

He had no trouble remembering numbers when it served him well. Pepper and Rhodey’s birthdays were accidentally forgotten, but entry codes? No. He’d made regular forays into this sanctum to Bacchus all through his teen years. He only cracked open the really expensive vintages when he was particularly pissed at his father, which was frequently.

The worst treatment he’d ever gotten from Howard was a night during summer break he’d been pulled out of his bed at the age of fifteen. His father found Tony passed out on the bed from a combination of wine and weed. The empty bottle, a 1945 Romanee Conti valued, at the time, at $80,000 was lying nearby. It was the prize of Howard’s collection. 

Still mostly drunk and high, Tony was shaken awake roughly by a screaming mad father. He yelled right back. All the pent up rage and hurt that Tony held in throughout his whole life came boiling to the surface. He let Howard know exactly what kind of father Tony considered him to be, how the neglect and scorn ate away at the teen’s self image and confidence.

When he took a swing at Howard, the older man put his son on the floor. A broken and bleeding nose was what ended the argument.

Tony packed up the next morning and left. He went back to the dorm at MIT. It was the last time he’d darkened the mansion’s doorway, with the only exception being his parent’s funeral and the reception after. 

Emancipated at seventeen, Tony moved into the townhouse on 86th Street in Manhattan's upper east side, where he lived until he bought the Malibu estate. 

Pepper now owned that property after he’d deeded that it to her right after they’d broken up. Those were memories he’d rather not churn up. Particularly with what was hoping to do with the godling trailing closely behind him. 

Tony turned to Loki and grinned, although the expression didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, here we are. This is Daddy’s collection. It is climate controlled to keep the wines at the perfect temperatures. It’s got a fairly high tech security system too. After all, we would not want anyone to steal it, would we? But that didn’t stop me.”

He led the way down the stairs passing many finely crafted racks once they reached the bottom level. It opened up into a spacious room set up for lounging and tasting. A place where Howard’s inner circle got to sip the expensive vintages and pretend they were better than everyone else.

Tony dropped down onto one of the heavy caramel-colored sofas and waved his arm expansively. “Go ahead pick one. I don’t care which.” 

He was really trying not to brood because, hello, mood killer.

Loki liked the smell of the wine cellar, the temperature, the calm and cool quiet. And he liked the solitude. This was nice, just himself and Stark. 

The man was clearly in a foul mood. That was not to Loki's liking, but he had an idea as to why the man was sour and what could be done about it. He selected a bottle from the rack, read the label, but returned it to its hold.

He chose another bottle, a dark red with a black label with a golden angel insignia. He walked to the other side of the small room, breathing deeply, enjoying the lack of humidity, the sharp coolness in his lungs, the scent of treated wood, spices, and even the leather from the backings of the furniture. He selected a wine aerator that would allow him to pour the liquid through it and into two glasses. Some of the flavor would be lost, but he wasn't really here for the wine.

"You do not like it here," Loki stated, pausing in pouring to gesture at the house in general. "This is not the first time you've mentioned paternal strife." 

Tony rolled his eyes but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he was content to watch Loki select the wine, hungrily taking in Loki’s grace of movement and the power of his lean frame. The trickster was obviously recovering, and it showed in his carriage. “We were always at odds.”

"I can relate to that,” Loki continued. “I was always more of an intellect, a scholar, a lover of books and knowledge. This displeased the Allfather," Loki admitted in a mocking tone. "When it became clear that I'd rather study spellcasting than spar and make weaponry, I was sent to live with my mother's sister and spent a great deal of time learning my craft. I supposed it is comparable to you attending university, only I was the only student and had many advisers. I came back with more knowledge and perspective, only to face more disdain for what I'd learned. The Allfather never could control me or put me in a mold to his liking. Now that I have had time to reflect upon it, the reasons are so very clear as to why I never quite fit into the Aesir mold."

“Yeah, I was a trophy for Howard Stark, to be trotted out and displayed for all his business associates, made to perform and then handed off to a nanny and removed from his presence. I made it my young life’s work to piss him off as often as possible.” Tony laughed humorlessly. “But then, negative attention is still attention. My mother was too busy with her socialite friends and charities to bother much with me either. Sounds like we both had childhoods that sucked. Something to toast to I suppose.”

"I'd rather toast to free will." Loki finished the aeration of the wine bottle. It looked like dark black blood in the glasses and even more so in the decanter he poured the rest of the wine into. "Do you have other homes, other places we could abscond?"

Tony held out his hand for a glass and answered Loki’s question. “Let’s see. I’ve got a couple of other penthouses in the city. I’ve got a mansion in Malibu. A cabin in the Adirondack Mountains, bachelor pad really, had some epic parties there. I’m not sure Pepper even knows about that one. I bought it with mother’s trust fund when I was 19. Also, there’s a summer estate in upstate New York near Oneida, haven’t been there in years. I’ve got a house on Evergreen Island near Seattle. Oh, and I own a Caribbean Island called Villa Mi Casa. There are Stark Industries properties all over the world too: Tokyo, Paris, Milan, Rome, London, Berlin, Beijing, Seoul. I’m sure there are others, but I can’t remember them all. Sounds like enough places to get lost in? Believe me I’ve tried, but the trouble follows. It always follows.”

Loki’s grin was wicked. "Oh the chaos you and I could create together. We could be such powerful allies, Stark.”

“Yeah, because everyone thinks us hooking up is such a great idea.” Tony was well aware of what SHIELD called The Stark Protocol. It was to be set in motion if he ever did go rogue. It was laughable really. Tony had such contingency plans too, in case SHIELD or anyone tried to take what was his. Jarvis could do a hell of a lot of damage before he was taken off line. If they could find the A.I., that is. Jarvis was perhaps the best protected super intelligence on the planet. “I seem to create enough chaos on my own according to Nick Fury. I’m still not sure of your intentions.” 

"No?” Loki asked, intrigued and excited by the prospect. “Well, then, lets drink to the possibilities of the future." Loki touched his glass to Tony's before sipping his wine, never taking his eyes off the man. "Do you have everything you want, Tony Stark?"

Tony drained his glass and waited for a refill. Loki tipped the bottle and more rich red wine filled the delicate crystal to the brim.

“Hmm.” He thought about Loki’s question. It was odd. Sitting here, talking to Loki, he felt totally comfortable. He couldn’t understand why the others had such a hard time with the Asgardian. “Do I have everything I want? I suppose to an outsider, I do. People equate power and money with happiness. Trust me it, doesn’t mean shit. Sure, I have lots of shiny toys, a metal suit I can dress up in and play hero. I used to have a gorgeous girl, but no. None of it made me truly happy.”

“Why not?”

Tony shrugged. "I have this insatiable drive to create, to explore, to find out more, but where did that get me? Nightmares, practically every fucking night. That curiosity prompted me to stare into the void, and that void stared right back.” Tony could not suppress a shudder.

“I know this void you speak of,” Loki said, motioning towards the sky with his glass. “All the terrors you fear are there. And more.” 

“Do you know what I want?” Tony said sharply, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation immediately. “I want to forget... to just fucking forget what I saw, what happened up there, what is out there, lurking… coming for all of us, if what you say is true.”

Loki gazed back, neither denying nor confirming.

“Can you do that for me? Can you make me forget for just a little while?” Tony boldly returned the trickster’s gaze, knowing what he was asking for, wondering if Loki would grant it. Several pounding heartbeats passed until uncertainty crept into Tony’s psyche. 

"Of course I can,” Loki affirmed, walking over to Stark. “I can pleasure you until tremble, until you beg for more and beg me to stop. You’ll forget your name." He said, raising the man's chin with his fingers, "but you will never forget mine.”

He stared at the man's mouth, licked his own lips. He knew what Stark was asking for, and he desired it too. They were similar creatures who had seen things in their time that should not be seen. He too longed for the oblivion intimate pleasure could offer.

But why was he not worthy of receiving? Why was he giving of late and performing at their beck and call, and doling out little pieces of himself as a submissive creature for the taking?

This angered him, pulled emotions out of the would-be king that came unbidden. It tasted familiar on his tongue, bitter memories of the past year in service of Thanos and the Chitauri General.

"Tell me," Loki said, narrowing his eyes, "Why should I give to you any more than I already have? Do you think you can just take from me and not reciprocate?"

Tony hated getting mixed signals. Loki leaning over him like this, invading his personal space and making it his own nearly stole all the air from his lungs, Loki staring at Tony’s lips like he wanted to devour him on the spot. Then, there was anger. Loki seemed to be barely controlling his temper.

Tony had forgotten in his selfishness that Loki was akin to a wounded animal. Everyone was taking from him. Everyone wanted something from him. No one wanted Loki for the things that made him Loki. 

And damn if Tony didn’t know what that felt like. He’d become well acquainted with those feelings in this very house.

Instinct told Tony to give in to the surge of anger from his wounded pride. He’d uncharacteristically asked, almost pleaded for Loki to make the memories go away. It was not something he’d done very often. Then, to have what he wanted almost in his grasp and have it thrown back in his face...

But his temper would only drive Loki further away. Or worse, escalate this to a dangerous level, and damn, Tony wished he could ignore the thrill that thought gave him. That hint of darkness in Loki caused his pulse to race.

Tony looked up at Loki from his reclining position on the sofa and thought very carefully about his next words. 

“Please don’t misinterpret my request,” Tony reassured. “I’m not going to take without giving in return. So what can we give each other?”

Loki’s eyes softened, glancing at the man's lips again, down the length of his neck where he could see the strong pulse beating there, then lower, to the glow of the arc reactor.

What did Loki want? He could not answer without struggling for words, and that panicked him. It was like he didn't even know himself any more. He hadn't felt so lost in hundreds of years. He suddenly felt exposed, frightened, and trapped.

"You are a fool!" Loki stated, his fingers digging into Tony's jaw before pushing the man away. "As if you could ever quench this thirst inside me."

Only, he imagined Stark could. And that thought stole Loki's breath away. It made him feel even more vulnerable than the realization that he lost himself somewhere in the cosmos.

Loki stormed towards the door, purposefully tipping over the block table in his tantrum. Glass and wine spilled to the floor and shattered, pieces dancing in the dark liquid like bleeding starlight. 

In rage, he turned and strode back to Stark, leaning down into the man's personal space to scream at him. "How dare you order me around, to please you, as if I am your slave? You are no prince of earth! You are ill suited to make such demands of me!"

“Okay, that’s it! What the fuck is your problem?” Tony shouted. “I am not your daddy or your brother or any of those other twisted assholes that worked to screw up your life. You came to me for help, and I almost died to give it to you! Now you accuse me of treating you like a slave?”

“I am no one’s slave!”

"I know that. I’ve never treated you as such. People hurt you, I get that! You think you got the market cornered on personal pain? Get a fucking clue, Loki. We are all fucked up, okay? Emotional dysfunction is not exclusive to Asgard. We’re pretty damn good at it here on Earth.”

“Oh now you want my pity?”

"No, I think you want to fight. So give me your best shot, because I am done baring my soul to you and having you tear it to shreds! Only a fool would put up with that shit.” Tony was panting with anger. He shoved Loki out of his way, intending to get off the couch, or that was how it was supposed to go, but Loki didn’t budge an inch. Goddamned Asgardian strength, or whatever he race was.

“Fucking move!” Tony hissed in anger. “Get out of my face!”

Loki picked the man up off his feet and slammed him against the wine rack.

"I did not ask for this," Loki exclaimed. "I did not ask for any of this! I was in a cell, dying, and then I woke up here. This is neither paradise nor peaceful rest for my weary soul. You have not glimpsed the depth of the fight in me. You could not survive it."

He was shaking with rage. He couldn't control it. The anger he felt for everything that had happened to him and because of him was overwhelming. His eyes stung, his heart was pounding wildly. He wanted to burn it all to the ground. But again, what would be left? Nothing. Nothing but more pain and punishment and disappointment.

He just wanted... what? He just needed... who?

Why was Stark always there at his most vulnerable? This man did not cower nor did he shame Loki. He treated him like they were equals. Stark was a worthy adversary of wit and word and mettle. He spoke like a spoiled prince and acted like a tramp, but he'd given Loki more compassion and trust in mere hours than anyone had in more than a year.

There was nothing gentle in the way he sealed his mouth to Stark's lips and forced his mouth to open, biting his lower lip, forcing his tongue into the other's mouth, stealing the breath out of the slighter man with his heavier weight pressing against the metal in his chest. Loki wanted to tear at the man and climb inside until he no longer existed, until he became something new, became something unrecognizable from himself.

This. This is what Tony wanted, no, needed. This is what he had been craving ever since Loki turned those focused and appraising green eyes on him. He groaned deep into Loki’s mouth, hands fisting in Loki’s shirt. Tony tried to get closer. Loki’s grip was punishing and would no doubt leave bruises. 

Tony let Loki control the kiss, relishing the sweep of Loki’s tongue against his own. The sharp bite of the trickster’s teeth and the heady pressure of his lips were intoxicating.

Tony’s back was pressed against the wine rack, Loki’s hard body pinning him in place. Tony managed to wrap his legs around Loki’s waist, and my god, that caused a whole new set of sensations to run rampant through Tony’s body. Loki’s touch was almost electric. 

He wound his arms around Loki’s neck and twined his fingers into the god’s silky hair, keeping Loki right where he needed him. Tony would no doubt be sore tomorrow, but right now, he didn’t care.

Tony shifted in Loki’s grip and groaned again, feeling Loki’s hard length against his groin as Tony rutted against him. Lightheaded, he pulled back with a gasp and buried his head in Loki’s neck, licking the damp skin, enjoying the salt sweet taste of Loki’s skin.

“God. Do something, anything, just move,” Tony panted in Loki’s ear, nipping the lobe sharply.

Loki expected harsh rejection and complete disdain for his voracious assault upon Stark’s person. He had just explained, in no uncertain terms, that he had absolutely no use for Stark, and in fact, Stark was even beneath his station and worth.

And by the Nines, Loki himself had no idea what he truly wanted. So how could he expect Stark to make sense of this ugliness and indignity so petulantly displayed? But when Loki realized the man’s reaction was nothing short of covetous encouragement, the brittle foundation his ego struggled to find balance even as it crumbled away. With it went Loki’s anger, his arrogance, and his confusion.

All that was left was Tony Stark and an insatiable desire for an intimate connection with this Midgardian.

He spun, easily supporting Stark with one arm. He reached towards one of the sofas, snagging a mink throw and fanning it out onto the floor with a flick of his wrist. With his foot, he shoved the nearby furniture back and away, allowing them more room.

Loki bent at the knees and lay the man down under him, chance navigating them mostly onto the soft spread. Stark was pinned beneath him, caged between his arms, as he rocked his hips against the friction their clothing and closeness provided.

Then it was too little. He needed to feel the warmth of Stark’s skin against his as much as he needed his next breath. Both hands skimmed down the man’s torso and then lifted his shirt up and over his head.

The arc reactor glowed brightly, like a beacon to his curiosity. Was it a guide or a warning? He wanted it, but not as much as he wanted Stark at that moment.

“Yes, fuck yes.” Tony moaned at the feeling of Loki’s body against his. When the trickster gripped the hem of his shirt, Tony eagerly lifted his arms. He wanted skin on skin. It had been so long since he’d let someone dominate him. The fact that it was Loki sent heat racing through his veins.

Tony spread his hands on Loki’s torso, sliding them under his shirt. Whipcord and satin under his fingers, muscles were tight and quivering under his exploring touch. He eagerly cataloged each sound Loki made with each exploring touch. He smiled when he brushed Loki’s nipples with his thumbs and the god gasped.

“Lose the clothes, please?" Tony asked... he knew better than to demand. That would come later when he was sure Loki would be receptive. "Need to feel you. Naked would be so much better.” 

“Yes,” Loki groaned with this talk of need. Need was so much deeper than want.

He had no time for the commonality of usual undress. He gathered energy in his palm and whispered a simple charm. It sounded like a prayer rolling off his tongue. He supplemented it by drawing Stark’s tongue back into his mouth with a deep, soul-searing kiss that left his body twitching and yearning for so much more.

Tony hooked his legs back around Loki’s waist. This angle much better, as their height difference not so apparent.

His fingers raked down Tony’s leg from knee to hip, magic melting the man’s clothing from him like mist in warm sunlight. Another breath and Loki was unclothed too.

He pressed his body down and couldn’t choke back his moan of sheer pleasure s their bodies connected.

Tony could not stop the needy little moans that spilled from his lips as Loki dominated the kiss. His mouth shaped Tony’s. Loki truly deserved the nickname silver tongue, because dear god, he could kiss.

Tony ran his hands down Loki’s back, across the curve of his ass, then palmed those delightful globes and dug in with his fingers, pulling Loki firmly against him, lining their cocks up and arching his back. Despite the chill of the room, sweat began to bead between them, creating a slick glide of skin on skin.

It wasn’t enough. Too little stimulation was slowly driving Tony mad. He threw his head back as Loki’s mouth moved down his neck leaving sharp little nips that reddened his skin. So Loki was a biter, no surprise there.

Tony writhed under Loki as he licked a path down Tony’s chest. He sucked in a harsh breath as Loki traced the seam where arc reactor met skin with his tongue.

It felt good, but Tony froze. It was just… he was too vulnerable. He fought the urge to cover the reactor with his hand in a protective gesture as Loki’s emerald green gaze and hungry expression raked across him.

If this was going to happen, and it WAS going to happen, Tony needed to take back a little control.

“Over, roll over, onto your back,” Tony gasped out, hoping Loki would comply. Because there was fuck all he could do about it if the Asgardian didn’t.

Stark didn't say 'please', but at this point, the man could have just about anything Loki could conjure if it meant intimacy soon. The heady scent of sex, sweat, and the distinct taste of the arc reactor was one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs Loki had been exposed to. He rolled them both, switching their positions but remained sitting upright with Stark in his lap. His mouth latched onto Tony's neck. Oh yes, he'd mark him. Everywhere.

He recognized this as a power play, and who wouldn't feel vulnerable in the mortal's place? Loki released the man's bruised flesh and licked his lips, tasting sweat and sweetness. His eyes flicked back down to the arc reactor and then up to challenge Stark.

His slender fingers trailed down from the reactor, respectfully not touching it, and encircled their eager cocks, squeezing them together. He watched the man closely, drinking in every response with his sight and memorizing every sound with his mind.

Tony bucked into Loki’s tight grip. He moaned loudly when the trickster’s agile fingers brushed across the sensitive glans then across the tip, gathering the moisture there and spreading it with his thumb.

"I would have you now, Stark," he said, far too eager than he'd been in a century. He reached out and trailed his fingers in the pool of wine that spilled earlier. He lifted them up and gently traced the man's lips with two fingers, hissing in pleasure when Tony sucked them eagerly into his mouth.

"Yes," he groaned before sliding them out and using magic taught to him by a filthy little nymph to create honeyed slickness to comfort their joining. That is, if Stark permitted it.

“Need you in me, please,” Tony nearly whined. He was momentarily concerned at the lack of a condom but Loki was a god, right? He doubted there was anything he could catch. 

Tony had never done this bare. Despite his wild youth and adult years, he’d always been careful. But just the thought of Loki inside him with no barriers just about made Tony’s breath hitch in his throat.

He raised up a little on his knees. “Just go slow. It has been awhile. And fuck, you’re a big boy aren’t you?”

"That’s how we like it in Asgard," Loki bragged. His smirk softened quickly though. As eager as he was, he never wanted to bring discomfort of any kind to his lovers. There was no point to pain when seeking pleasure.

"Do not be concerned," Loki reassured. "I am a shapeshifter and can both accommodate and be accommodating." He licked at Tony's lips, fascinated with the taste. "I will show you ecstasy, not pain."

Loki's fingers trailed over the man's hip and over the swell of his buttocks. His fingers were slick, his body so eager to enter the warmth and bliss so near and yet still so far from completion. He would've moved this along quicker but Stark was equally as apprehensive as he was eager. It only added to the desire Loki felt.

Tony reached back and guided Loki’s hand to the crease between his parted legs. He groaned in pure pleasure as Loki’s long fingers teasingly circled him. Tony’s mouth found Loki’s when he slowly pressed inside. His other hand covered Loki’s and he jacked them both, pre-come making the friction maddening but bearable.

One finger eventually became two as Tony’s body accepted the intrusion. Whatever Loki mojo’d up for lube made him tingle inside. Then when those talented digits brushed against Tony right there, he pushed back eager for more.

Tony could practically feel Loki’s smug smile against his mouth. Damn the bastard had good aim. Soon he had Tony squirming in his arms, head thrown back constantly moaning. Then when Loki added a third finger only the tight grip on both their cocks kept him from coming.

Loki mouthed the juncture on Tony’s neck and shoulder sucking hard as Tony rocked back on Loki’s hand and forward into their joined hands. He didn’t know which way was up.

“Now... fuck me. I’m ready. Just get in me now, please.” Tony stuttered as Loki curled his fingers inside him yet again.

His forehead dropped to Loki’s shoulder as fingers gently slid out of Tony’s slick passage. He groaned at the loss, but then he felt the blunt head of Loki’s cock against his entrance. He took a deep breath and bit his lip.

“Oh god, fuck yes!” Tony cried out as Loki pushed slowly but steadily past the guardian ring of muscle. The burn was there as he was carefully stretched open, but it was coupled by a rush of melting heat.

Tony could not help it. He moaned loudly as Loki paused with just the head inside.

“More... Move...” Tony managed to gasp out as he panted against Loki’s neck.

Then inch by glorious inch, Loki slid into Tony, steadily moving until he was deeply inside. Loki’s hand spanned Tony’s lower back holding him in place.

Tony could see Loki was not unaffected by their coupling, his teeth were gritted as he tried to maintain control.

Still, it wasn’t enough. Tony sank further onto Loki’s lap until his ass rested on Loki’s thighs. Loki’s hard length filled him with a searing heat that was indescribable. It felt like static shocks arced up and down his spine. Loki was, after all, a magical being, and Tony could feel it down to his very bones.

Tony experimentally rose a little and sank back down, causing them both to moan.

“I’m ready. Do what you want with me,” Tony said, “Just do it now.”

Loki released Tony’s cock and slid his hands to grab Tony’s hips. Now he could control the speed and depth as he fucked the mortal astride him. Loki thrust up into Tony’s willing body as he mouthed a wreath of passion marks along the man’s collarbone, soothing each little sting with a broad swipe of his tongue.

Tony arched in Loki’s arms gasping each time Loki’s skilled movements caused his cock to slide slowly along his prostate. He couldn’t think, his mind blessedly quiet for once. All Tony could do was hang on and feel, to get lost in the intense pleasure, drown in it, willingly get pulled under.

Their bodies were so close that with every thrust, Tony’s dick slid against Loki’s abdomen leaving a sticky trail. The friction was enough to make him choke out Loki’s name.

“Harder. I need it. Fuck me harder,” Tony panted. Being totally at Loki’s mercy was dangerously thrilling and terribly addictive.

And Loki complied to Tony’s plea. He eased Tony onto his back, placed the mortal’s legs on his shoulders and gripped Tony’s thighs.

He gave Tony what he begged for. Waiting for just that moment when Tony willingly surrendered totally to the trickster god.

Loki thrust again and again, nailing Tony’s hot spot repeatedly. Tony’s hands clenched in the soft fur under him. He was reduced to incoherence, arching eagerly against Loki’s body as he was indeed fucked hard and thoroughly.

Loki was, as he said, nothing if not accommodating. Tony’s body encased him fully in his tight, soft heat, clasping his cock in a spasming grip. It had been so long since Loki felt such passion. Tony’s surrender affected him greatly, and he could feel the tide of his completion rising.

“Touch yourself, Stark. I want to see you come,” Loki demanded.

Oh god, Tony thought, as Loki’s voice burrowed its way inside, demanding his release. Tony’s hand fisted his slick cock and slid along its length in time with Loki’s thrusts. And Christ, was he going to feel this tomorrow. 

“Yes, almost there, faster,” repeatedly fell from Tony’s lips. Heat rose, Tony’s limbs trembled as he locked his ankles behind Loki’s neck. His intense gaze pinned him to the floor, breath coming in gasps as his long fingers dug into Tony’s thighs.

“Come now!” Loki demanded again. “Come for me, Stark.”

Unable to resist, Tony shattered in the trickster's arms. Pearly ropes painted his own chest and abdomen as his body jerked helplessly. He cried out Loki’s name as he shuddered through a blindingly intense orgasm.

Tony didn’t think he’d ever come so hard in his life, and still Loki pounded into his body, fucking him through the aftershocks of until he was a pliant trembling mess.

Tony’s release literally at Loki’s command nearly sent the god over the edge too. His hips snapped repeatedly against Tony’s ass until he could hold back no longer. He emptied himself in Tony’s body, nearly silent but for some deep groans of pleasure. Sweat dripped off of him as his thrusts slowed, his cock pulsing inside that slick, heated vise.

Soon, the only sound in the room was the hammering of their own hearts and the gasping of their breaths as they enjoyed the pleasure their completion provided.

Utterly sated and more than well-fucked, Tony groaned again when Loki released his legs. He gingerly lowered them to the furred throw and ignored the slight cramping he began to feel. Even with the plush rug, the floor was a hard unyielding surface beneath his back, but he was too blissed out to really care.

He did hiss a little in discomfort as Loki slowly slipped from his body.

Still, Tony could not keep the grin off his face when he looked up at Loki. He knew he looked like a debauched wreck. Sweat covered, hair standing on end, come painting his chest and belly. And damn, he’d shot so hard Tony was sure there might be a stripe or two on his goatee and cheek.

“If I’m expected to move, like, ever? Then you need to get me off the floor. It's going to get damned uncomfortable soon. You might even have to carry me to bed, because I don’t think I can walk. I don’t think I can even remember my own name.” 

"Did I not say that it would be so?"

Tony chuckled. “You did.”

Loki shifted and leaned back against one of the racks. He rested his elbow on a bent knee, unashamed of his nakedness. He allowed his eyes to rake over Stark. The man was a delectable mess. Sex was such an enjoyable play for power. But this was completely different. 

Because of Loki's magic and Stark's arc reactor, this had been an experience like none other. He found that he could take from Stark in ways unimagined, tap into the energy running through the man's body - siphon it, collect it, and strengthen himself and his skills. Stark didn't even appear to be aware of it.

He had to ignore the poison he could smell and taste and sense there, but the energy from the arc reactor was like drinking pure water from a clear lake, and when connected intimately, Loki could drink to his heart’s content.

The Asgardian closed his eyes, savoring the afterglow of a most vivacious tryst. The tingle of the arc reactor's own type of magic was now being converted for use in his body. 

He should comply with the man's request to clean up and move to a more comfortable setting, and perhaps if he did, Stark would agree to another round...

But first, to return their clothing. Loki lifted his hand, noted the slight tremble in it and chalked it up to the vigorous romp just experienced. He expected to be able to now access the energy he’d collected from the arc reactor, but apparently, it worked in different ways than what he'd expected. He'd have to assess this matter later, in the privacy of his own rooms. 

Loki intended to re-clothe himself, but not all the fabric returned. His trousers had holes in them, his shirt had no buttons, and his vest was gone entirely. Loki cocked an eyebrow and pursed his lips in annoyance.

Best if he not try to do the same on Stark's person. The arc reactor caused such unpredictable results. He did try to bring back the man's clothing to the floor beside Stark but that didn't work very well either. The denim was missing and the shirt was as long as a dressing robe.

Had he not just fucked the man into breathlessness, he'd be mightily embarrassed. This was just a minor frustration, that was all.

"I am getting better," Loki demanded, daring Tony to poke fun at his attempts to access and utilize his magic as he did before his punishment in Asgard. "At least your shirt wasn't animated like the food."

Tony looked at his clothing and pursed his lips trying not to laugh. “Or you are just trying to keep me naked. Not that I object, but the others might take exception to that.”

"I don't care what the others think. As to keeping you naked and available to my desires," he said with a smirk, "I am a god, Tony Stark, I need no recovery time. I am merely supplying you with your clothing because you asked to move to a more comfortable location. But do not tempt me unless you mean to make good on your taunt. My cravings would exhaust you into oblivion."

Loki stood, holding out the extra long t-shirt towards the man.

"Loki! Where have you gone?" Thor shouted. He did not sound amused. "There is someone here to see Tony Stark and I will not have you delay their appointment any longer."

The dark prince looked at the door, eyes wide. By the Nines. It seemed he was right, and he couldn't even bed someone without Thor spoiling everything.

"Damn. Get up, Stark," he said, deftly lifting the man to his feet by his arm. "Please tell me there is another way out of here."

“Nope, one door in and out."

Tony grabbed what was once his shirt and pulled it over his head. The garment fell past his knees. Oh, didn’t that look special. He tried to ignore the stickiness that was drying on his chest and belly, also the rather annoying after effect of fucking without a condom now dripping down the back of his leg.

He leaned against the overturned couch to catch his breath. Damn, it didn’t usually take this long for him to get back his second wind. Well, Bruce did say no exertion, but god it had been worth it. Loki truly lived up to his admittedly self-proclaimed reputation.

"Uh, maybe I wasn’t kidding about the being carried part.” Tony raked a hand through his hair and scratched at his chin. There was no way they were going to hide what had happened. He hadn’t felt this guilty since he’d snuck Janine Feldman into his room when he was fifteen.

"If you make an excuse for me now," Loki offered, "I will come to you later tonight and ease your fatigue. Agreed?"

“Please tell me it involves a blowjob? Kidding, kidding. Okay, fine. I get to tell Point Break that I was not down here letting his baby brother fuck me.”

Loki narrowed his eyes in annoyance but said, "Much obliged." He then gave a small bow, and then literally vanished like a mirage.

“Damn it. Loki, you’re asshole.” Tony muttered at the space Loki used to be. He decided that ignorance was the way to go and resignedly headed towards the stairs.

"Loki," Thor shouted again, the name ending on a growl. His heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs leading to the wine cellar. A familiar voice and a second set of thumping footsteps accompanied the Asgardian. The door burst open and Thor stormed inside, Mjolnir in his hand. 

Behind him stood the War Machine suit, mask up.

"Aw come on, man," James Rhodes complained, taking in the scene and clearly recognizing it for what it was worth. "Tony, what the hell? It smells like a ten-dollar whorehouse in here." 

“Rhodey? Well that explains how Thor got past the security panel." Tony tried for a smirk but the expression fell rather flat. "Admit it. This is not the oddest situation you’ve caught me in."

Rhodes waved an armored hand at the nearly-floor length shirt Tony was standing in. "And what the hell is this? Your nightgown?"

"Where is he?" Thor demanded, each word pronounced slowly and clearly, the grip on his hammer turning the knuckles on his fingers white.

Tony was glad he was leaning against something because his legs felt decidedly wobbly. 

“Don’t know who you mean. I’m here by myself,” he replied nonchalantly.

"I can smell his magic in the air," Thor explained then wrinkled his nose in disgust, "amongst other scents. Loki has shattered my trust by violating you in your own home. He is a guest here and should have respected you for your kindness."

Thor began to pace, uncomfortable with the entire situation. "I told you," he began in a lecturing tone, raising his hammer to point it in Tony's direction. "Did I not warn you that he would seduce you?"

Tony was just about to blast Thor for insinuating that he didn’t have any control over who fucked him when Rhodey interrupted.

"Hey, hey, hey," Rhodes exclaimed, reaching out for Thor's arm and pushing it down. "Don't point that thing at my friend. I'll talk to Tony. You go find your menace of a brother and beat the hell out of him if that’s what will make you feel better."

The lieutenant colonel positioned himself between the Asgardian and Tony, armored hand showing Thor the way back out the door.

He waited until the Thunder God had stormed out and up the stairs again until turning to face down his best friend.

Rhodes walked over and sat on the only remaining upright couch in the cellar. He crossed an ankle over his knee and threw both arms over the back of the wooden frame, the suit's servos and hydraulics whirring with each movement.

"So I get this call from my commander in chief. The President of the United States is concerned about this ominous dark cloud over Stark Tower again. He's got reports that you're all there, just like during the invasion of New York. And lo and behold, Thor's apparently fighting someone on the landing pad."

"Did you just say 'lo and behold'?"

"So," James continued, outright ignoring Tony, "I'm ordered to go take a look-see and assist. Then Fury gets me online, right as I'm getting the Cliff's notes version from Jarvis on what's going down. Now, Tony, you know I don't like Nick Fury. I do not like that man. I told you before, don't make me deal with him. And now I got him on visual on my HUD and he's bitching at me like I'm your goddamn wife. Did I tell you I was in South Korea? So now I'm supersonic trying to get to New York City faster than your tech can move, and when I arrive, I get an earful from Banner, from Thor, and from your boy, Happy, who I might add is not kosher with this whole setup. And don't get me started about Pepper. You're going to have to deal with her and the damage control she's doing right now in PR soon enough."

Rhodes paused a moment, cocking his head to the side. He raised a red, silver, and blue finger for silence when Tony's mouth opened. "Loki, really? Are you doped up on some seriously whacked Asgardian weed or is this one of those cries for help? Because Banner is more than willing to set up an intervention. Pepper can be here in a few hours. We can stage the whole thing in daddy's living room and have you in some posh rehab before dawn."

“You know I still have the override codes on that suit, right?" Tony spat out. "How would you like an all expenses paid flight to Siberia?” 

James flagged him off with an iron finger and then settled in, waiting for Tony to unleash his spin on the story of how this all came to be. "So yeah. Go. I wanna hear this."

“Loki is a fantastic fuck?” Tony paused when Rhodey’s eyebrows drew down.

"Do not sass me, Tony. Don't do it."

Tony held up placating hands.

“Okay, okay, this is a real cluster fuck." Tony swiped a hand across his face. The afterglow of just a little while ago totally gone. He quickly explained the situation, glad Rhodey didn’t say a word until he was done. 

“There might have been good reason for all of Asgard to want Loki's mouth sewn shut, but torture like that, I… alright. Tony. I can see why this pushed all your buttons, man.”

“So yeah, I let them stay. Everyone is convinced I’m crazy, and shit, maybe I am. But there’s something different about Loki. He is still dangerous as fuck, I agree. But he’s… well, he's more sane now. Barton confirmed they were both the Tesseract’s bitches. That taint is gone now. I can guarantee it. And so I’ve been talking to Loki, getting to know him. His life is just as fucked up as mine. But see, the difference is I’ve got friends, loved ones I can depend on, people that look out for me. Loki thinks he has no one. Maybe he needs me on some level. Maybe Loki can be convinced the world is not about to fuck him over. Someone once gave me a chance. Perhaps I can extend that same opportunity to Loki.” 

Uh oh. It was far worse than Rhodes thought. Tony now thought he could save Loki, like they were kindred spirits and shared similar pasts and shit. Stockholm Syndrome. Banner had been right in saying this situation was a ticking time bomb. 

Loki would betray Tony, and if he left him alive, the inventor wouldn't last long after that. There wasn't much left of Tony Stark that hadn't already been shattered or cracked enough to break with just a little more force.

Rhodes had read up on PTSD after the invasion. The phrase had been tossed around until it was nearly synonymous with the Avengers and anyone involved in that fateful day. The military had counseling for it but no one took advantage of the therapy. It was seen as a weakness. Tony obviously felt the same. He wasn't going to sit down on some couch and bare his soul to some doctor with a degree and a white coat ready to judge and label and prescribe medication.

But Tony definitely had the all symptoms. He couldn’t see how Loki could help the situation, but he wasn’t a shrink. He was Tony’s best friend.

He knew he first had to get Tony out of this house. It was haunted with dark memories. This was the absolutely worst place for his friend to be, particularly right now, when Tony was clearly dealing with some serious fall-out stress.

"Tony, come with me to Malibu. No, Tony, just listen," he said when the man began protesting immediately. He sat forward on the couch, leaning towards his friend. "Just come to Malibu for a couple of days. We'll sort this out. You can explain things a little more because I'm still not understanding some of this. Couple of days by the water will clear your head."

Despite feeling like shit again, Tony started to pace, as if by moving he could outpace his whirling mind. His inner voice was screaming ‘you idiot! Rhodey is right’. But Tony really believed that if he turned away from Loki now, the Asgardian would feel the cruel sting of betrayal and totally snap.

Rhodey finally stood up when Tony's body tensed. "Tell me this. Where's Loki now, huh? You think he's ready to change, to be this person you think he wants to be? He's just abandoned you like some teenage boy crawling out a window when your parents found you fucking in the bedroom. 

"Oh and another thing, Bruce told me about the poison, how it's in you now. So how's that feel to be infected by the same man who you claim is ready to turn over a new leaf? Tony," Rhodes said, stepping a little closer. "You look terrible, man. It's like the palladium poisoning all over again. I talked briefly with Coulson. He's got some bio-engineer he wants you and Banner to talk to, Jemma Simmons. She could meet us out in Malibu if you'd just--"

“Look, I get what you’re saying. Maybe I’m the only one keeping Loki together right now. Amazing right? As fucked up as I am, I may be capable of helping someone. But think about it. If I hadn’t had you and Pep? How would I have turned out? There’s things I’ve created, things that will never see the light of day, horrifying things. Why did I do it? Because I could. Plans I’d drawn up during low points that even now I can’t bring myself to destroy, ones that are safeguarded so strongly no one else will ever see that darkness. So maybe Loki and I are more alike than anyone wants to admit.”

Some of this started to make sense but Rhodes winced. 

"But see?” Tony continued, “I had you, I had Pep, and I had to think that every time I considered bringing those things out of the vault that I might lose the two of you over it. Your love and support was worth more to me than anything my fucked up genius could create.”

If there was ever a time James wanted to both hug and punch the man at the same time, this was it. A part of him wanted access to those "horrifying things" for the military's use, but this was a different Tony than a couple of years ago. And Rhodey didn't mind this version as much as he did before. He was even beginning to prefer this Tony Stark.

“Yeah, Loki’s magic is keeping the poison from eating me alive right now. And maybe with Bruce’s help they can come up with a cure, but I’ve got other options than just Loki and his healing magic. I know a biotechnologist as well.”

“Who?”

“An old friend who liked plants, but look, Loki is not to blame for my condition. I took it upon myself to cut his bonds. He didn’t coerce me. I did it because he was suffering, hurting, and I had the power to help him. I may be the only person to ever help him without an ulterior motive. "

Rhodes sighed heavily. "Yeah, I get that you need him to buy time for Banner to come up with a cure. I just don't see what's in it for you, Tony. Loki's a fugitive, an outlaw, and he's killed so many people here on our own planet. You're going to take the heat for him, you know that right? Do you really want to be saddled with this alien from another realm? I don't believe the sex is that good."

“Trust me, it is. And I’ve killed people too, Rhodey, with the weapons I created and by my own hand. You manage to put up with me, don’t you? I know you’ve been told to distance yourself from the crazy billionaire, but you stayed beside me, even at the jeopardy of your own career. What’s your excuse?”

"Fuck you, man," Rhodey said, but it was said affectionately with mirth and a slight smile.

“Maybe I see in Loki what you see in me. I’m madly attracted to Loki but that does not mean I’m not aware of his potential danger. So give me a little credit, okay?” Tony stopped pacing because it was making him dizzy.

Alright. Rhodes could tell when it was time to shut up and call it a night. Tony had truly convinced himself of everything spoken aloud. Fighting with the genius was only a selfish endeavor, and no one could argue like Stark, so it was time to change the subject, even if James knew this had disaster written all over it.

And something he'd have to address again soon was the fact that it almost sounded like Tony was falling for the Asgardian. It had to be some kind of magic mumbo jumbo, but it would do no good to throw around accusations in the wine cellar. Tony clearly wasn't up for it any longer.

"You really do look like shit. And you need a damn shower," Rhodey stomped over to the billionaire and put an arm around him for support. "Don't you dare get any semen on my suit. I swear I’ll knock you out, man."

“Wait, whose suit? You stole it, as I recall. It was mine. And how do you know it hasn’t had semen on it before?”

“Shut up.”

"Look, Rhodey, all kidding aside, a shower is desperately needed. I could use a little help to my room. I’m not feeling all that great at the moment. Afterglow does not last as long as it used to.” Tony dredged up a tired smile.

"Yeah, I hear you," was all James said before starting the slow trek upstairs. The rest of his thoughts didn't need to be spoken again, like how Tony brought this crazy kind of shit on himself. How he always got himself into these messes when sex was involved - okay so never a mess this big, but inevitably, Tony's pride and/or his dick were always involved in these fiascos. But at least Rhodes understood where Tony was coming from. He didn't agree with it, but he now knew how to approach future conversations, knowing Tony's line of thinking - that he was going to save Loki like he'd been saved, give Loki a chance like he felt had been given to him, save Loki from the Big Bad out in space that'd he'd seen gunning for earth. 

The man couldn't even deal with his own demons much less save a god from cosmic evil. Damn Howard Stark for fucking his kid up so bad. Stane too.

The one thing Tony was right about was how terribly wrong everything could've gone had Tony decided to take his intelligence and use it against the world. So yeah, he could understand Tony's brand of logic, he just didn't agree with it at the moment when it came to rehabilitating Loki. From what he'd been told, Loki had lived a long, long time. Rhodes didn't think he was just going to change because Anthony Stark batted his eyelashes and wiggled his ass as him.

"Which room are you using? I am lost in this place."

“Fuck if I remember. Fourth floor somewhere. I was mostly unconscious when they dragged me up there. No way I’m setting foot on daddy’s wing though,” Tony said a little more bitterly than he meant to.

He gratefully clung a little to the armored arm that wrapped around his waist and helped him navigate the stairs to the fourth floor. Also really glad they didn’t run into anyone else.

James opened the door to the nearest one. He whistled at the elegance within. "How about this one?"

He half drug the man inside, angled for the bathroom, switching on the light with an armored finger. "You got it from here? Because I'm not going to fit in the stall with you, man, and I really don't want to see your naked ass. You better not let Banner see you any time soon either," Rhodey commented, wiggling a finger at Tony's neck. His mouth was turned down, slightly disgusted by the dark reddish-purple hickeys dotting the genius' neck near the shirt line.

“Like you haven’t seen my ass before, don’t know how you could have resisted actually. And this is not the first time you dumped me in a shower and made sure I didn’t drown, but yeah, I think I got it from here.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, good, and thanks, you know, for coming here. For sticking around even when no one else would have. You’ve put up with some shit from me, bad stuff. Anyone else would have run for the hills. I don’t know why you stayed but it means a lot.” Tony stopped and cleared his throat, his voice gone hoarse with emotion bubbling up from somewhere unfamiliar.

“Whoa, slow down there, man,” James soothed. “This is practically a declaration of love in Stark language.” 

To cover from his almost rather unmanly tears, Tony did what he did best: deflect. “Hey, let me upgrade the suit. Military doesn't know shit. I can do a few things, make it better.” Tony would too. He needed to make sure Rhodey was protected. This time he would make the fucking armor allergic to Hammertech. Tony knew those pricks in the defense department made a deal with Hammer. Some kind of vacation prison in return for his gadgets.

"One thing at a time. I'll take those upgrades, but only after you're back to full health. If we're looking at bad like palladium poisoning all over again, that's got to be our first objective, okay?"

“No really, I got all these ideas. Improve your speed and maneuverability, beef up the armor plating without increasing the weight. Missiles... did I mention the sonic dispersal missiles I’ve been working on?"

"Now you're just trying to turn me on."

“Two days and I’ll have it all finished. Jarvis? Damn, he’s not here, but that’s okay, I got it all up here.” Tony tapped his head and then went on and on.

Rhodey walked back to the door as Tony rambled on about tech and upgrades. They were all things he was quite interested in, but he knew Tony wouldn't shut up and bathe until he was gone.

"Hey, McFly?" he called out, finally getting the genius' attention. "I know you want to save the world and all, but start with saving yourself, okay? I'll be downstairs, eating the other half of the pig currently warming on a spit in the fireplace. Seriously. You let them order a pig?"

“Pig? I told them to get a cow! I wanted cow!” Tony yelled through the door as he peeled off the misshapen sweater and stepped into the shower.

Tony loved him, he really did. Too bad Rhodey didn’t swing that way. Lord knows the billionaire made more than a few dozen drunken passes at his friend over the years. Each time he’d been firmly but gently rebuked.

The lieutenant colonel pulled the door closed behind him. He looked down the hall to the left and right and then took up position to the side of the door. He stood at ease and got comfortable, mask down so he could converse with the President first, then Pepper, then Jarvis. He wasn't going to leave Tony to his own devices or allow Loki to indulge in more of his carnal desires. Certainly not while Tony looked like death.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a favorite for both of us. Also a lot of liberties were taken with Natasha's past. Some from the comics, the movie verse and from our own imaginations. Enjoy! And thanks for reading.
> 
> PS - There should only be 9 or 10 more chapters total, depending on how they square up after editing. Hope you stay will us "til the end of line." ~ Loki Doki

Clint went looking for Natasha, even though he knew she preferred solitude to work out her problems. But he felt his partner deserved more than to suffer alone, even if that’s what she was used to doing.

He didn’t want a confrontation. He just wanted to be there for her. 

Natasha Romanoff had a lot of secrets, more than any one person should have to bear. She was part of a larger team now than just Delta. She was an Avenger. Her world had expanded beyond the little threesome she was used to, just as it had for Clint. They had others who cared about them. That would take some getting used to.

Some people declared them heroes, others vigilantes, and a few whispered the word “murderers.” In Clint’s mind, the truth was that Iron Man and Captain America were the real stars of this show. The rest were just the support team.  
He and Nat were assigned a mission and simply got the job done by whatever means necessary.

Bruce was even more of a wild card. Clint had seen the footage of the Hulk. He’d read the dossier. If Barton hadn’t been under Loki’s control, he’d have demanded to go with Natasha when she made first contact with Banner. He’d have been her backup, though if Bruce had hulked out, there would not have been a damned thing either of them could have done to stop him.

The first time Clint saw the Hulk in person was right in the middle of the freaking battle to save New York. Hell of a time to get introduced to a super charged green monster with anger management issues.

But they’d all fought together, and surprisingly, they’d inexplicably saved the day.

It was rather humbling to count a mutated human and an Asgardian god among their numbers. It made Clint feel like the sidekick, but if Coulson thought his place was on this team, then Clint would use his talents to the best of his abilities to aid his teammates.

The archer just wasn’t sure if Natasha would be willing to throw her lot in with these lunatics. 

She’d worked in the private sector before and could easily disappear again. That was something Clint did not want to happen. He loved the violent redhead, trusted her to watch his back. There were not many people he could say that about and mean it. In fact, he could count the number on one hand. He needed Natasha on this team. He felt that she also needed to be part of something. Natasha had been alone far too long.

Clint sighed. His aimless wandering was getting him nowhere. It was time to talk to the eye in the sky. “Jarvis, do you know where Agent Romanoff currently is?”

Man he felt weird just talking out loud to an empty room, but Stark’s A.I. was literally everywhere in the tower. Truthfully, it kinda creeped him out, but Clint was glad Jarvis was on their side.

“Agent Barton, I have detected Agent Romanoff's presence. She is currently using the firing range. Take the elevator at the end of the hall to sub-level 2. I have granted you access.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.” Might as well be polite Clint thought. He really didn’t want to annoy something that had control of his current environment.

When Clint entered the firing range, he was well aware that Natasha knew the second he stepped off the elevator. She just chose for the moment to ignore his presence.

He watched as she raised her Glock and fired, emptying the entire clip into the distant target. Not hesitating, she raised her left hand, which held her second gun, and emptied that clip as well. Then with barely a pause, she ejected the clips and slammed new ones home.

Clint approached his partner and looked down the range at her opponent. Trust Stark to have state of the art ballistic dummies to vent her anger on. Clint noted with approval that all of her shots had hit vital areas in nice tight groupings.

Natasha glanced at Clint and wordlessly handed him her guns. Knowing she’d only talk when she was ready, Clint took the weapons. Firing both guns at the same time, it took mere seconds until the clips were empty again. He only made a brief study of the target before he let loose. He was better with his bow, but this was Nat’s choice of weapon, not his.

Smirking in pride at his accuracy, Clint laid the guns on the shelf.

~*~

Natasha looked at the dummy. There appeared to be no new holes in the torso. Every one of Clint’s shots entered the holes left by her bullets. He’d not missed once.

“Show off,” Natasha said fondly and shook her head.

Clint leaned against the counter and smiled. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

Natasha sank down to the floor, resting her back against the wall. She sighed. “I suppose you want to know why I reacted the way I did to Coulson’s mission.”

Clint sat as well mimicking her pose. “Only if you feel like talking.” 

She raised her knees and rested her arms across them. It was a protective posture.

“I’ve never told anyone else this, but I figure you, of all people, deserve to know. Just don’t interrupt, okay? I need to get this out in one go. Otherwise, I don’t know if I’ll be able to.” 

Clint looked at the haunted expression on Natasha’s face and his heart bled for her. “Come here.”

Not giving a chance to pull away, Clint wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently tugged until she was leaning against his side. “No matter what it is, I’ll still have your back, you know that.”

“You say that now,” she said, comforted by Clint nudging her gently. She paused to gain her composure before she began her story. 

“I was eight years old when I was taken, along with a group of girls my age, to participate in the Department X program. They called it the Black Widow Ops. You know some of this, Clint. I was trained in acrobatics, martial arts, firearms and espionage, everything they could think of to make me a good little spy. What you don’t know is what they did to me when I was old enough.”

Clint frowned, wanted to ask specific questions but remembered she asked not to be interrupted. He gently rubbed his hand down her arm and urged to her continue. 

“I was born in Stalingrad in 1940. I’m 73 years old.” Natasha paused at the surprise on her partner’s face.

“Wait, how?”

“Just listen. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

Clint nodded, mouth still slack with confusion.

“After World War II, there was this mad rush to try and duplicate the super soldier serum. The head of Russia's Department X, a man named Ivan Petrovich, looted Schmidt’s laboratory after the Howling Commandos attacked the facility. He used the information retrieved from there and a few other sources to create a bastard version of his own serum. They used it on all of us in the facility."

“Why can’t they just leave it alone,” Clint muttered. After Cap, every life the serum touched left nothing but pain in its wake.

"Along with their psycho-technology,” she continued, “We were to be turned into good obedient weapons. They’d point us at our target and we’d kill. Then we’d return home, only to be programmed again for the next hit. Most of us didn’t survive the process. I was one of the “lucky” ones. A lot of them begged to die after a while, some chose to step in front of a bullet or jump off a building.”

Clint’s fist tightened and his jaw clenched tight. 

“Our training took place in the ‘Red Room’,” she explained. “They only wanted the strongest of us to become their agents. They pitted us against each other inside that place. There was always so much blood. The smell of it alone was revolting, not to mention the visual every time I went in that red room. Besides me, only a handful of other agents made it through the program.” 

Natasha shuddered and Clint pulled her closer until she was practically in his lap.

“I’m so sorry, Nat," was all Clint could think to say.

She simply shrugged. “Once I was in, there was only one way out, and I was stubborn. I wanted to live.”

“That’s self-preservation, not a weakness.”

“Perhaps.” She swallowed hard and picked at a hangnail. When she spoke again, her voice had changed. It was like she was lost in the deepest part of some painful memory. 

“There was one other thing that Petrovich took when he looted the lab. One of his soldiers found a nearly frozen, half-dead young man in one of the ruined buildings near the facilities outer walls. His arm was crushed. It is a wonder he was able to drag himself through the ice and snow as far as he did. Fascinated by his survival, Petrovich and his pet scientists set out to discover how he lived.

“After much debate and testing, it appeared that this man had already been one of Schmidt’s little experiments. They realized he’d be able to do things the rest of us couldn’t. He had the closest serum to Cap’s that anyone had managed to create. The only problem was his mind. He fought them. So they used their technology to recondition his mind, bend his will to theirs, and to become one of their strongest agents. I thought the tortures they put me through were bad. It was nothing compared to what they did to him.”

“It was Cap’s friend, right? James Barnes?” 

She nodded and closed her eyes tightly. Clint didn’t know if retelling this story was helping or hurting her. He didn’t think she was even aware of the tears on her face. He’d never seen Natasha cry before. He kissed her temple and waited until she began again.

“They remade James into something of their creation. False memories, implanted personality, and finally, they gave him a prosthetic arm that was a technological marvel. They called it organic steel. And that’s how the Winter Soldier was born. He eventually became my mentor, refined my talents, honed my skills to a higher level.

“Later on, the Department deemed it only natural we were teamed up for missions. We worked very well together. Between missions, we were put in what they call “stasis,” the frozen sleep. It worked most of the time, but then they noticed that something was different about the two of us. We managed to hold onto pieces of ourselves. There were things that we were able to remember, even if we tried to hide it from them.”

Clint thought of his time in Loki’s service, in the service of Thanos and the Tesseract. He knew the consequences of disobedience, particularly when mind control was the weapon. He pulled her closer to him. 

"Then, James and I committed the ultimate sin against the organization. We became lovers. It was something that we tried to keep secret. And that’s what they could not manage to take away with their brainwashing. We remembered each other, remembered the bond we shared, no matter how many times they tried to wash us clean.” 

Clint lightly stroked her hair. He’d had no idea now horrific her past truly had been and now, faced with Coulson’s mission, her reaction made sense. He was almost upset at Coulson for not giving Nat a heads up to process this and steel her emotions before being hit with these memories and how to face what was coming.

“After a while,” she said, “it became harder and harder to keep it a secret that their brainwashing was no longer effective. I… I let some things slip, I asked too many questions, I guess. They were going to do a complete wipe of my brain, a total reboot, rebuild me as a soldier from the ground up. I just couldn’t let that happen. I wanted my memories. I wanted to remain who I was. I’m sure they suspected that James and I had become close, because they didn’t put us together for missions any more. James, he told me to get out if I found that I could. He told me to run and never look back. I didn’t want to, but I felt I had no choice. The next mission, I fled. I… I left James behind and I ran.” 

She couldn’t recount any more after that. It was too much. The root of her guilt and shame was now exposed: She’d run away and left James Barnes without looking back, knowing what he was going to have to face alone. And now she knew he’d been managing it alone for decades. 

“Shhh. Its okay, Nat," Clint murmured into her hair. "I know the rest. You went freelance for a while, made a few mistakes, ended up with the wrong people, and then got on SHIELD's radar.” 

“I was just so angry, Clint. I took any job that would pay my asking price. I didn’t care who I worked for as long as they didn’t control me. I wanted to decide my fate, not them. But James, he didn’t make it out. He stayed.”

“Not totally, if what Coulson said is true.”

“He did say James was able to work for both sides,” she admitted, but then fell silent. On a whisper, she admitted, “He didn’t run. I’m the coward, Clint. I took off and left him. How could I do that to him?”

“You didn’t have any choice. Despite what you think, Nat, you’re still human. Yes, you made mistakes, but escaping that hell hole was not one of them. I bet he’d tell you that too,” Clint stated boldly. “Now, you have a chance to make it right. We can bring James home. For Cap and for you,” Clint quietly soothed.

Natasha nodded and stayed in his arms for a while, comforted by his acceptance of her past. Eventually, she sat up and wiped her face with her hand. She didn’t know how long she’d sat there using her partner as an emotional shelter, but she was grateful for it.

“Clint, I’d like to be alone for a while. I need to think, to put some ghosts to rest now that I’ve confessed my sins, so to speak. I promise I’ll come find you later if I need to," Natasha whispered.

“Not a problem. Just be safe, okay? I’m here for you no matter what.” Clint kissed his partner on the forehead and stood up. He extended his hand, and when Nat grasped it, he pulled her to her feet.

“Go. Be with your man,” she said with a minute smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I’m sure Phil is waiting for you.”

“What should I tell him?”

“He knew some of what I told you, but it's okay if you tell him all of it. I’ll talk to Coulson when ready, not before that." Natasha gave Clint a grateful hug, not ashamed to show him this level of affection. 

When he let her go, Natasha carefully holstered her firearms, grabbed her spare clips, then left the room to find a quiet place to try and deal with her past.

~*~

Clint watched her leave with a sad smile. She’d been through so much yet remained so strong. Nat amazed the archer, she truly did.

Clint was, by now, more than eager to seek out his better half. He needed a little comforting of his own. Clint just wished someone would be there for Natasha the way Phil was there for him. Thinking about what he was going to tell Coulson, Clint made his way back upstairs, finding out from Jarvis what room his handler was in along the way.

Clint got to the door and knocked. Not sure if he was supposed to walk right in.

Phil was resting on the bed, still in his denim, cashmere, and nice warm socks. After his time spent in a coma, he didn't think he'd ever want to sleep again. He was finding out all too soon that he still wasn't above human needs like rest, food, and painkillers. He hurt. There was no denying it, but being up and awake and alive, talking to his favorite agents again, planning missions - this made every struggle worth it.

Barton, in particular, made his strife with the Tesseract and beyond it worth everything.

He heard the knock at the door and smiled. Right on queue, agent.

He slowly sat up, catching his breath when things pulled and ached deep within. He rubbed his eyes before combing his hair down with his fingers, standing, and smoothing the bedding to look untouched. He then went to the large desk in the sitting area and opened the laptop. Phil didn't want Barton to see him resting. He still had to maintain a sense of authority and leadership. Weakness would not be displayed, it wasn't becoming of a superior officer, or some bullshit like that.

He hitched one leg up on the corner of the desk and rested the laptop on his thigh. Phil donned the glasses on the desk and opened CNN.com on the screen. It was better than the login display that screamed faker. "Come in."

Clint opened the door and walked inside. He took a look around and shook his head. Typical Stark... it looked like a five star hotel room. “Gee, sir. I love what you’ve done with the place.”

"I'm pretty sure we could get room service," Phil joked.

Clint took a minute to admire the man at the desk, noting the glasses and urging his thoughts to remain friendly.

"How's our girl?" Coulson asked, placing the laptop on the desk and giving Clint his full attention. He was glad there was no undercurrent of anger detected in Clint's tone. Whatever he discussed with Natasha, it didn't seem to dull the archer's preconceived affections towards him.

Clint walked over to his handler. Needing some TLC after the harrowing story Natasha relayed to him, the archer took a liberty he was not sure he was welcome to yet. He stepped between Phil’s knees and wrapped his arms around him. 

Clint had lived most of his life devoid of any affectionate human contact. Just a quick fuck when the itch got too bad to be ignored. He was rapidly coming to crave the comfort he got from having someone he cared about close by. Natasha taught him that. They taught each other.

And damn it, sometimes you just needed a hug.

“She’s not good,” Clint admitted. “Natasha cried. I’ve never seen her do that. Nat’s past. My god. How could they treat someone like that?” Clint said into the skin of Phil’s neck, enjoying the warmth and the scent. It seemed like home.

"You know how they operate, how cruel they are," Phil answered bluntly. "You know this all too well."

He stood to meet the man at full height and wrapped his arms around him. He was startled a bit by Barton's need for comfort. It wasn't something he'd seen often. In the field after things went wrong, yes. Every handler had gone through various acts of physical comfort with their subordinates, and nothing was ever spoken of it off field. It was some unwritten law that was never crossed. But this was different. 

He realized Clint's psyche was still so fragile, and having witnessed Natasha's distress, Barton had been greatly affected. 

He should've prepared for this more thoughtfully.

"Come here," he said, and led Clint to the edge of the bed where he sat the man down and then took up a spot next to him. "What are you afraid of, Clint?"

“Nat said I could tell you what she talked about because she really didn’t want to tell you herself. She also said you knew some of it, or suspected you did.” Clint then told him the whole story, barely managing to get it all out. Then he mentioned his fears. “Natasha will go with us on this mission, but after that, she’s going to leave. I know it. She’s going to run, and there’s not a damned thing I can do to stop it.” 

Clint’s hands were clenched in his lap as he looked down at the floor.

"Why do you think she'll run?" Coulson's tone was calm and quizzical. He wanted the man to work this out himself. He'd guide Barton along.

“Nat’s not always been a team player. When things have gotten really bad, she retreats. I’ve covered for her before, gone and hunted her down when she took off, made her come back. It’s never been in any of my reports. This… it is bigger than anything she’s had to face in the past. I don’t know if I can convince her to come back this time.” 

He hated lying to Coulson, doctoring his mission reports, but now was the time to come clean. Maybe they could both convince her to stay.

Coulson knew everyone fudged reports. He'd just done so in front of his team and sent the report to Fury. But it stung to hear that Barton had lied to him in the past. He knew his agents weren't always honest, and he was smart enough to know they had their reasons. He just hoped, like all handlers did, that his charges would come to him if things ever got beyond their control and they needed help.

"Natasha runs," he agreed. "That's her coping mechanism, but she's always had a good reason, Clint. She hasn't had a healthy reason to stay until you became her partner in our Delta team. You have anchored her to SHIELD. She's always known where you were, and if she wanted to return, she'd have a way back in."

Coulson stood and got bottled water from the night stand. "This time is quite different. She ran from someone she both respected and loved, someone who couldn't follow her. Now she has to face him and what happened. It will hurt her more to run this time than to stay because she wants his forgiveness.”

He drank, let his words sink in. When Clint remained silent, deep frown on his face, Coulson continued. "I know Barnes. I was his handler for a short time a few years ago. He's very intense but in his times of clarity, when he can cling to his humanity, he is very compassionate. I am sure he’s already forgiven her. Natasha just needs to hear it from him. Listen, if she runs again, and she may, she will lurk in the shadows for the one thing she needs more than anything in this world. And she'll only get it if she returns to where he is and stays long enough to hear him say it."

Phil put the lid on and set it down on the table. He crouched down at the archer's feet, looking up at Clint and rested his hands on the man's thighs. "Continue to be her constant ally. Be the one thing she can count on when her world is spinning out of control and she's losing her footing. Sound like a plan?"

Clint took a deep breath, looked back at his handler. He placed his hands on top of Coulson's. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there for her. We’ll both give her a reason to stay. We’ve got each other’s backs, always have.”

~*~

Natasha retreated. It was an ingrained response from years of being the only person she could rely on. Run before she could be hurt. Keep everyone at a distance. With weapons if necessary.

Only two people had ever been able to get past her defenses. One was James Barnes and the other Clint Barton. Despite her best efforts, they saw through her facade, realized that a hurt and traumatized little girl was still in there.

That didn’t mean The Black Widow was weak, no, never weak. But they realized what she was: She was vulnerable. Natasha despised feeling that way with a passion. But no matter how she tried to kill that part of her, all it took from either man was a kind word or an understanding embrace, even more, in some cases.

Lovemaking they called it. What did she know of love? It just led to pain and guilt. It was just sex, a way for her to lose herself for a while and just feel. It was Natasha who used them. She knew it was true. 

She was such a fucking liar, such a good little liar.

She stood near the railing surrounding the helipad, arms wrapped around her body to try to ward off brisk wind. A silk tee shirt and jeans were not the best protection against the elements. She barely felt the cold though, lost in her own thoughts as she stared out over the city. But finally, even Natasha could not ignore the shivers that wracked her slender frame. Hours had passed and still she had no answers. Would James remember her and would he blame her? Did Steve blame her? 

Natasha knew she could do her job during this mission, but afterwards? She feared the damage to her heart would be irreparable. Then again, she was an assassin, a covert agent. Who needed a heart anyway? It just remained to be seen whether the Black Widow would stay or would she leave to start over again somewhere else. 

Natasha bit down hard on her knuckles, almost tasting blood. She just wished they’d ripped her emotions out along with her memories all those years ago.

Finding no answers out on the roof, Natasha turned and went back inside. She silently moved through the darkened penthouse, more cold inside and out than she could ever remember being.

God, she didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight.

She hesitated when she spotted a large figure huddled on one end of the sofa: Steve Rogers. She could see he was awake and apparently as lost in the past as she was. They were two damaged souls mourning the same loss.

Natasha didn’t want to leave but she also didn’t know how to ask for what she wanted. She approached the couch and stopped. 

~*~

Steve looked up at her and noticed the way she was shivering. He’d seen her standing on the landing outside and knew she had to be cold.

Wordlessly, he lifted one end of the fleecy throw invitingly and shared a warm but weary smile with her. 

The simple gesture touched her. Natasha took Steve’s invitation and let him draw her down onto the soft sofa. He covered them both, enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. 

She was surprised how quickly she laid her head on his broad chest and relaxed, her arm draping around his waist as if they’d done this a hundred times. She even allowed herself to close her eyes.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered, pulling her closer to share body heat.

“Thank you, Steve.” Out of everyone, it was Rogers who understood most about what she had been through and what she was going to go through during and after this mission. She knew he wouldn’t pry. It wasn’t in his nature. He would just be there to offer her comfort in his own way, something for which there were no words to express how much it meant her.

Together they’d sit through the dark night and await the dawn.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for a little Phlint

Clint was not sure what to do next. He’d done as much as he could for Natasha’s psyche. Now, he was at a loss as to where he should head for the evening. 

He had been so eager to see Coulson with his own eyes, he’d rushed to Stark Tower without even a change of clothes. Beyond that, he needed to prepare for the upcoming mission. They really didn’t have much time to train. Clint knew he needed to be in perfect fighting form. So much hinged on this mission going right. They all had too much to lose if it went south on them.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Coulson. 

“I, uh, should probably find a change of clothes somewhere, grab a shower, and hit the sack,” he began. “I’m sure this place has another bed I can use to crash.” 

He really didn’t want to leave. The thought of letting Phil out of his sight caused the first niggling feelings of panic. This was all too new. He had yet to get used to the idea that Coulson was alive and on the mend.

But he could not presume to stay. "I haven’t been sleeping all that well, so it will probably be a restless night of watching boring late night TV or training."

Phil gave him an accepting smile. Barton was right. They needed rest and the perspective that would give to the next step of their relationship. Yes, there was a sense of urgency between the two of them, given how familiar they were with immediate loss of life and contact. But he knew that rushing into a new level of intimacy wasn't a good foundation for a long-term success, if there was such a thing between agents of SHIELD. He'd like to try.

Coulson stepped back, giving Barton some room. He walked back to the desk, cleared his throat and took off his glasses, laying them beside the laptop. "I know Jarvis scored the Asgardians some clothing. I was going to order up some things on Stark's Am Ex for kicks. Want to add to that?"

“Hell yeah. If Stark’s buying, then how about some jeans, cargos, and some basic tees. Hey order me some boxer briefs too, okay? I was kinda in a hurry to get here and forgot everything. Didn’t even bother put any on,” he finished quietly.

Phil chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back against the desk to take in the marvel that was Clint Barton. "Who is the tease now?"

“In Barton logic, seeing you was a bit more important than any worries of going commando.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Phil pursed his lips. Did Clint know that every time he wore his heart on his sleeve, not to mention giving his thoughts voice, that it did things to his heart? He had to know. But then, Barton was always a bit naive to these sorts of things. It was a good portion of the reason why their mutual attraction hadn't progressed before this. Barton was uncertain with doubts of unrequited love, and Coulson was uncertain about rank and sentiment getting in the way of missions.

“Yeah, well, um, I’ll just ask Jarvis if there is another guest room I can crash in. I should go and let you get some stuff done.” Clint hated the desperation creeping up in his voice, but the thought of spending the night in an unfamiliar place, all alone, did not guarantee he’d get any sleep at all. It was another thing he hated about the mind-fuckery he’d been through with Loki. Clint used to be able to nod off anywhere, drop at a moments notice, grab any rest he could and be ready for action. Not now. He wondered if ever again.

"Jarvis said there are a few suites on this floor that aren’t claimed yet,” Coulson explained. “Dr. Banner is coming back within the hour. I need to speak with him about clearance for our team, for my own peace of mind." He needed understanding about his own medical condition too, but he didn't voice that. "Choose a room nearby. I'd like to speak with you again this evening." 

“Yeah, okay,” Clint said, with an upswing of hope.

“Agent Barton,” Jarvis interrupted. “There is another guest suite across the hall that is available.” 

“Yeah, sounds good. Oh, and Jarvis? Any chance of getting some pizza delivered, large with everything?”

“I shall order one from sir's current favorite place. I’ll have it sent up when it is ready to your quarters.”

“Thanks,” he said with a grin. It softened a bit when he looked at Coulson again. He thumbed towards the door. “So yeah, I’ll just, go and get settled.”

Clint knew Coulson was still in mission planning mode - brisk and efficient, the agent was mentally mapping out every angle of the upcoming job. That didn’t keep Clint from wanting to hover, something he personally hated when sick or injured. So perhaps it was best if he created some distance between them for now. "Share that pizza later?"

"Sure," Phil replied. He added a soft smile to restore some confidence. "I'd like your company."

A vulnerable Clint was an attractive one. He'd have kept the agent in his room with him if not for the loose ends that needed to be tied up and archived in Coulson's mental filing cabinet. So he watched Clint go, something stinging in the region of his heart when the door latched again. This time, it wasn't physical pain.

You sure about this, Coulson? He was... yet he wasn't. There'd be that pesky hindsight if this didn't flesh out the way he expected. But there was one constant in his life over the last few years, and it was Clint Barton. He didn't think they'd screw up their trust and friendship born and built over blood, sweat, and bullets over something as pleasurable as intimacy.

After Barton left, he sat down heavily in the chair leaned his forehead on folded arms on the desk. "Jarvis, is Bruce here yet?"

"He arrived four minutes ago. He is in the medical bay, coincidentally, asking about you."

"Okay,” Phil acknowledged. “Will you tell him I'll be right down?"

"Of course."

Phil was suddenly bone weary and didn't like the implications of that state of illness. He'd gone from overly-energized to an utterly-exhausted state in just over an hour. 

Yes, mission briefings put everyone in a state of smooth flowing adrenaline, but there usually was a gradual taper off of the spike of the high. This felt like a hard landing. 

He was glad the doctor was back from Stark's mansion. They had a lot to discuss and he wanted to do it quickly and quietly.

~*~

"I'd say most of your fatigue and the headaches stem from the fact that, while your body was in a coma, you were mentally awake for nearly three months," Banner explained. "If I was your doctor, I'd tell you to find an island and spend a month there alone with nothing but a hammock and a tropical drink. Sleep for half of that time and watch the water the other half."

"I don't have time for that," Coulson admitted, a half-smile lending way to the absurdity of that idea. "I could try for a week in November, if Stark doesn't do something to ruin that timeframe."

"Hey, it's your body," Bruce said with a shrug.

"So tell me about that aspect."

“Okay, well, your recent images show massive amounts of scar tissue in your chest and back,” Bruce explained. He removed the stethoscope from his ears and slid back on the rolling chair. “Have you ever had a wad of bubble gum stuck to your fingers? It’s stringy and clings to itself and your skin. Imagine that as the scar tissue in your upper chest walls. These adhesions are like fibrous bands pulling on your tissue and organs from back to front along the path of the stab wound.”

“That is a problem,” Coulson stated, wanting a solution.

“They’d be life threatening,” Bruce stated, incredulously, “and you’d be constantly monitored with repetitive surgeries to cut these repeatedly-forming adhesions from injuring your heart muscle. That is,” he added, “if were you not hyped up on some version of super soldier serum.”

"Then this is one of those times I am grateful for advanced science and geneticists." Coulson was aware he was being judged. He’d take it head on. If anyone on the planet had any right to question the scruples someone of becoming part of the super soldier serum project, it was Banner. Bruce was one of the worst of the failures who actually lived. A terrible curse, in Phil’s mind, one of the damned. Blonsky was the other.

“Why’d you volunteer?” Bruce finally muttered, seemingly focused on Coulson’s medical file in front of him.

Phil slid one his hands into the sleeve of his shirt, then the other, wincing only a little at the pain caused by the movement as he pulled the clothing over his head. “There was no data that proved the serum couldn’t be replicated back then when I volunteered. They’d tried a couple of times and realized they were too ambitious. We got a watered down version." He eyed Banner for a moment. "Come on, doc. Who wouldn't want to be the second coming of Captain America?”

Bruce raised his brows and chuckled at the man's hero worship. "Comparing Rogers to Jesus? Really, Coulson?

"He's damn close in my mind," Phil said with mirth.

Coulson left his explanation of his reasons to join the experiment at that. Bruce didn’t need to know more, really. The doctor had either seen the top-secret files on the serum that General Ross had disclosed or he hadn’t. Either way, it wouldn’t undo what had been done to Banner, which in the end, was what the man was really searching for.

“How’s Stark?” Coulson asked.

“He’s… he’s Tony,” Banner said with a frustrating chuckle. He stopped documenting on the chart and turned towards the agent. “I see why the man has a terrible time keeping friends and meaningful relationships. He’s a train wreck. His impulsivity… It’s like watching a toddler who just learned to walk play Frogger in rush hour traffic. You want to reach out and save him. But with Tony, he's an adult. You've got to let him make his own way in life. I can't tell him what to do. Well, I try but, you know. Who am I to do so? It starts to become a question of protecting yourself from the anxiety and frustration that stems from his recklessness.”

Coulson knew what it was like to watch someone you care about constantly run into danger. There was a psychology to it, but he wasn't going to explain it to Banner. You either understood the reasons why your friends choose to go into battle or you didn't. It seemed Bruce didn't have it in him to comprehend that. The doctor was, by far, more of a humanitarian than soldier.

“There’s a running joke at SHIELD,” Coulson admitted. "Stark left his house, time to suit up. There’s a betting pool as to how quickly he’ll start something we have to finish. He made it 21 days before Loki arrived and things went sour. I'm thinking the good streak had a lot to do with Pepper Potts. Now that Stark let her go, I’m not sure when we’ll get to restart the clock though with this one.”

“Yeah,” Banner said, pulling a face at the mention of Loki.

“So you’ll see Barton?”

“Sure,” Bruce affirmed. “Send him in soon. I need to get back to the mansion.”

“Will do,” Coulson replied. He paused on the way out. “You may experience some resistance from him…”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” the doctor said empathetically. “Clint wasn’t the only one jerked around by Loki, although he had it the worst. Well, present company included,” he added, motioning towards Coulson.

“I think we all had it bad in different ways. Just don’t take offense.”

“Understood,” Banner said.

~*~

Clint found the empty room Jarvis indicated. That was just it. The room was too empty and large. It made Clint feel exposed. He’d never really been comfortable in opulent settings. He could go undercover and pretend to be upper class with the best of them but this was not a mission.

Give him a ratty couch in a small office and Clint was happy. Especially if it was Coulson’s. 

Clint checked out the bathroom, and yup, it was set up for the next VIP guest. Large shower with a basket of high end toiletries, and geeze, the washcloths were even folded into flowers.

The archer didn’t care one way or the other. Soap was soap. He stripped out of his grimy clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. Clint briefly glanced in the mirror. The dark circles under his slightly red eyes gave away exactly how little he’d been sleeping. Clint had lost some weight too. He’d missed more than a few meals.

He knew Coulson would bitch when he actually got a good look at him. Clint’s job was incredibly physically demanding. In order to be ready for the upcoming mission, he had a lot of work ahead of him. 

Clint turned on the shower and stepped under the steaming spray. The heat felt good on his sore body. Clint really couldn’t tell if his aches and pains were due to his general mental fatigue or from his neglect.

That would soon be rectified. There was no way Clint was going to let Phil down. Not again.

He washed, rinsed and turned off the taps before grabbing a towel off the heated rack. Really, Stark, heated? Then he dried off. He carelessly dropped the towel on top of his pile of clothes.

A white plush robe lay folded on a shelf. Clint grabbed it having nothing else to wear. He didn’t think wandering around naked was a good idea, although he figured Stark did it all the time. Youtube had plenty of evidence.

Clint exited the bathroom and grabbed the TV remote before lying down on the bed, propped against the headboard.

~*~ 

Coulson knocked on the door of Clint's chosen suite. He could smell soap wafting out into the hallway. His mind conjured up images unbidden of the naked archer, warm and wet and content. He still wasn't used to thinking of Clint in that way - well, with permission, that is.

“Yeah, come on in.”

Coulson opened the door but didn't step inside. Sure enough, the man was in a bright white soft robe, the belt slung low on narrow hips. The closure didn't leave anything to the imagination, nearly gaping open at the top. This was all part of Barton's charm. The game was enjoyable. Frustrating but enjoyable. Coulson really hated to dampen the possible play that could come from this, but things needed to advance in proper order.

“You coming or not?” Clint glanced at the doorway and back to the TV. It was hard to look away from Phil but Clint didn’t want to seem too desperate for the man’s attention.

"No, I think it's best if I stay out here." Phil decided studying the paint in the hallway was probably the safest bet for him right now. "Banner is here but he's leaving shortly to go back to the mansion. I'd like him to give you clearance to start training again."

He heard Clint whine, saw him toss the remote on the bed in protest. Coulson didn't want to cause his agent's any grief, but this mission would be done right or not at all.

"See the doctor, Barton, as a favor to me," Coulson said, allowing a bit of a plea to bleed through. "I need to know you're clear physically to see some action."

Clint’s mind immediately went to a very dangerous place at the last part of that sentence, but then it wilted when he thought of another doctor running tests and prodding him.

He knew Coulson wouldn’t back down about this issue. What good would it do to argue? He’d yet to win a dispute against his handler when the archer’s health was involved. In fact, since Coulson became his one voice in the field, Clint had fewer ‘incidents,’ if that could be believed.

So the archer lazily got off the bed and stretched. “Sure, lead the way. Let’s get this over with. At least its Bruce and not some SHIELD jackass with a sharp needle and an axe to grind.”

"If anyone can understand what it's like to be violated by medicine, it's Dr. Banner." Phil closed the door behind Clint and they began to make their way to the elevator. "How's your room?"

“Big and empty. Any word on those clothes? I’m kinda flapping in the breeze here. I suppose I could always raid Stark’s closet again,” Clint replied as he followed Coulson down to the med bay.

"I like this look, Barton. Very laid back and accessible." Coulson punched the call button to the elevator. It chimed right away and the doors slid open. He had a momentary flash of insanity. Something about Love in an Elevator. 

Clint looked down at himself and smiled. “Yeah kind of like Myanmar. Only without all the flying bullets. You were the one in the robe that time.”

“That robe came in handy as a distraction,” Phil added with pride. They rode in silence, Coulson thinking about Barton’s mention of the ‘big quiet suite’ he’d been relegated to. He could tell the agent hated it. 

"There's a couch in my room if you'd prefer it."

Coulson didn't want to push or pull. Clint had already been manipulated in every way. So this required finesse and expertise. Advance things too soon, and it may get complicated, particularly before this mission. If things got bogged down and he made his move too little too late, things might never progress at all. 

One look at Clint and Phil demanded his mind shut off and just stand there. Just stand next to Barton and shut up.

“Really? Well, yeah. I just may take you up on that offer. Hell, even the sofas here are better than my bunk on the carrier.”

Coulson smiled at the memory of the Helicarrier, not because they were necessarily pleasant, but because they'd barely made it out alive against all odds. And that part always felt good. They could make a killing with fiction or a movie script based off the stories they could tell.

"Keep your claim on the room," Coulson advised, stepping out onto the med bay. "You're more than welcome on my couch, but you may find you need your own space at times."

“Been sharing space with you for years, sir, and we haven’t shot each other yet... well, at least not recently.” Clint followed Coulson into the room. He saw Bruce waiting for them. The man looked a tad nervous, eager to get back to Stark and all that madness, no doubt.

“Got just one request, doc. Be gentle with me, okay? I’ve had so many CAT scans in the last few months, I’m surprised I don’t glow in the dark. Been poked, prodded, and damn near dissected.” Clint grinned lopsidedly to cover his own apprehension.

"So no 'bend over and cough' today. Got it," Bruce mocked, chuckling.

~*~

He should've been pleased with the outcome of Clint's evaluation, given that there wasn't anything physically hindering Barton from reengaging in his prior exercise and training regimen. But Banner had given the archer clearance only for that -- just to begin training again. 

His opinion was Barton shouldn't be included in any missions yet. They all knew Clint had been through a tremendous amount of mental torture, anguish, fatigue, etc. Bruce wasn't the only one in that room could see how that had manifested physically. Clint was under-nourished with some muscle wasting. Then there were the wounds from the Battle of New York that were mostly healed but still ugly in the stories the scars told of that day.

Barton moved mostly with the grace and agility he once possessed, but his self-confidence was sorely lacking. Barton was not wasting away physically, but the time he'd spent on leave had taken its toll on the athlete Barton once was.

Phil pushed the box of pizza towards Clint, hoping he’d opt for a third piece, some more baked ziti, and another breadstick smothered in garlic butter. It was not the meat, veggies and potatoes Phil would've preferred feeding Barton, but if Clint had an appetite for Italian, then Italian it would be.

The one piece Phil had eaten sat like a rock in his stomach and was soon to come back up. Probably not the best choice for his first night off a feeding tube.

For now though, he was content to sit and not stare at Clint while they watched the news frenzy over what was being called a 'frightening but heroic save by earth's friendly Asgardian prince, Thor.' 

There were clips of black clouds and dramatic lightning striking the rods on the skyscrapers. Fuzzy shots from far off cameras on top of building showed Thor wielding Mjolnir like the god from lore. Fury, through his various media connections, had 'leaked' a fictitious cover story for Loki, stating that the man Thor fought was just one more of the many people who'd gone nuts since the battle of New York had had tried another suicide bombing of Stark Tower. The media was eager to embrace the "sad but understandable" story.

The newscasters were mostly leading the public against Tony Stark, reminding the viewers that he was always at the epicenter of recent alien invasions, insinuating that the Avengers were merely covering for the billionaire ex-weapons designer. The running conspiracy was that the Avengers were plotting take over the world. Funny how it could actually occur, but no one on the team had the self-serving ambitions for it. Loki, on the other hand...

Clint was anxiously focused on the television, napkin clenched tightly in his hand. He'd asked Banner for a sedative for Clint to take at night to help him rest, but the archer protested. Seemed logical he didn't want anyone or any drug dicking around with his mind ever again.

"Have another," Phil finally prompted.

Clint tore his attention away from the judgmental newscaster with some effort, his plate forgotten on his lap. The archer almost felt sorry for Stark, almost, but Tony soaked up media attention like a sponge. He seemed to both revel in and revile the press’s attention.

As usual the oh-so-forgiving public had gotten it all wrong again. Thank goodness. Clint pitied Stark’s PR department. He really did.

He took a deep swallow of his beer and set the chilled bottle aside. And hadn’t Phil frowned at Clint after he’d returned from his foraging through Stark’s kitchen refrigerator for the six pack. It was some ridiculously expensive microbrew, but not bad. At least it went well with the pizza. But Clint knew his limits. Coulson was aware his personal history with alcoholism, and he was not going to go down the same road as his father and brother.

Clint looked at the grease-stained pizza box and the mostly full pasta container. None of it looked really appealing anymore. But he took another breadstick just to make his handler happy. He took a bite and glanced at Phil’s plate.

“Maybe not the best choice for dinner, huh? You’re looking a little green around the gills, sir. Least its not grasshoppers, remember that? They weren’t so bad but I hated the way their legs got stuck between my teeth.”

"Just needed a little wasabi."

Clint laughed and finished his dinner then set the plate on the table beside the sofa. He stretched his legs out and sighed. The archer felt antsy, and after Bruce’s assessment of his condition, he was eager to get back into fighting form. After all, how the hell could he expect to provide backup for his team if he was less than one hundred percent.

It was just that with all that psycho babble shit and SHIELD’s med techs making merry with his body, he’d not felt the need to do much of anything. But now with the man Clint thought he’d lost sitting across from him, the archer felt that desire again to get into the field, to show everyone that despite being a mere human, Clint Barton could keep up with the best of them.

Phil stood up and moved around the suite, cleaning up a few napkins and the pizza box. It was better than thinking of grasshopper legs. His stomach was not going to put up with this topic much longer. "So what do you think we should do with Loki?"

Clint felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He sat bolt upright with the sudden desire to vomit, but got his panic under control. 

“Sir, truthfully, I have no fucking clue. Despite the fact Loki’s been used like I was, he’s still a master manipulator. I don’t like that he’s fixated on Stark.”

Phil nodded, allowing time for Barton to continue.

“I think Thor is the best option for keeping an eye on him,” Clint finally said. “None of us, there is no way we could beat him at full strength. That is, if Loki is planning something. But…”

“But what,” Coulson prompted.

"He’s running scared, sir,” Clint admitted. He held Coulson’s gaze, trying to share the depth of his concern. “If Loki thinks we are the best option for protection, then I don’t even want to think about facing anything that would freak him out to this degree.” 

Clint got up, wishing again that he had something else to wear other than this damned robe. He was too exposed. He started to pace, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. The doctors told him this is what happens when you were mind controlled and forced to betray your country. 

“Switching subjects,” he said, masking his level of dread, “Jarvis, about those clothes?”

There is a delivery for you,” Jarvis answered. “It arrived after your food order. I’ll have it sent up.”

“Thanks.” Clint really hated talking about Loki, but Phil deserved to know any intel he had on the Asgardian. They’d both had their brains thoroughly sifted through by Loki and the thugs above him. It was just so hard to talk about it.

Phil crossed his arms over his chest. He could see the tension in the man's shoulders and watched the anxiety build until Barton couldn't remain motionless. Sure, It was a given that Clint wasn't mission-ready mentally-speaking, but Coulson only needed the man's eyes and ability to assess the situation with the Winter Soldier from a distance. That was to be Clint's only assignment in Chechnya, save for flying them in and out of enemy territory. And Coulson didn't need Clint distracted, should someone mention anything remotely related to Loki or the Battle and shake Clint's confidence, take his mind off calling the field as his keen eyes saw it.

But Coulson had to give Barton something to cling to and something to work towards - a worthy mission, an attainable goal, a noble cause. This was his reason behind taking him to Chechnya. That, and Phil wasn't going to leave Clint behind. It would only contribute to the rotting of Clint's spirit, not reverse the damage.

So he'd allow the man this week to gear up, to get back to being Hawkeye. Six days could be a hell of a long journey towards recovery, if Coulson's plan was solid.

He just had so much to do in the meantime, such as getting Fury aboard his plan and allowing him to continue to handle it all.

Coulson knew they were all like a damaged bomb - it could detonate with a light breeze or a heavy footstep. Fury was concerned with the fall out and how many lives their implosion would take with them. It was a plausible concern. But if they could just pull through, if Coulson could manage to steer them all back in the right direction, they'd be stronger than the World Security Council had ever imagined. Or maybe that was their fear.

"I'll take your advisement of Loki's situation into consideration," Coulson finally said to Clint. He wanted to nudge the archer back towards some semblance of control over his life again. So he suggested turning his knowledge into power: "Not to make you uncomfortable, but you most likely know Loki better than just about anyone. This ‘mission’ you went on together and the pain you both endured, things you discussed during that time? They could be helpful in manipulating Loki in the future. Just give it some thought, Barton, from a strategic manner. You may find some things in your recollection that we can use to influence Loki towards working with us, not against us.”

The incredulous look Barton shot him was predictable. “Think about it, Clint. It isn't the first time we've sought to employ an enemy for their particular skill set."

“Yeah, okay. I see your point. It’s just… I don’t know how to explain it,” he struggled. “I’m the one he singled out to talk to. I guarded his back when he went to that Otherplace. Its wrong and all kinds of fucked up, but…”

When Clint shut down, Phil wandered over and casually leaned against the wall beside the window, where Barton had taken up watch. His eyes were unfocused, seeing memories, not the lights of city around them. 

“Talk to me, Barton,” he urged. “Tell me what’s eating at you.”

“It’s just… a part of me doesn’t want to betray him.” Clint closed his eyes, as if he’d said something shameful. He rested his forehead against the window and tried to concentrate on just breathing.

"There's a lot of psychology that comes with fighting with and for an enemy outside your will. From my perspective, you kept your honor.” He reached out, squeezed the man’s shoulder. “Give it time, Clint. Maybe you'll find one of the therapists helpful in the future, maybe a colleague. But don’t think for one moment that I’m ashamed your actions."

“Yeah,” Barton eventually mumbled. “Thanks, sir.” 

Coulson hadn’t mentioned James Barnes by name as the potential colleague who could help, but he hoped it may be an avenue Clint could explore when and if the Winter Soldier's memories were ever to be restored. The soldier would have decades of the same kind of guilt Clint was now experiencing.

"Jarvis, can you have my clothes routed to my room for me? I need to make some calls," Phil said. He didn't mention that he also needed to rid his stomach of the pizza currently eating its way through his insides. He also needed to speak to Thor about proper terms of their stay on earth and make sure the god knew that Loki was not to roam outside of Thor's eyesight and reach at all times. Finally, he wanted to put out a call out to Sitwell for a face-to-face tomorrow in Flushing. It was imperative that Fury believed none of them had been compromised. Sitwell could be that link if played properly. “That offer still stands about my couch. Give me an hour, then I'll turn in for the night.”

“I’ll be there. Being alone right now is not at the top of my list.” It took a lot for Clint to admit any weakness. 

All his life, he’d hidden that part of himself from the world, the part that made him vulnerable. For the last several months, it had been impossible to hide, like a raw nerve to be prodded over and over until it bled. 

His protective barriers were gone now. Clint had to figure out how to try and rebuild them, if he was going to contribute to the team again.

And he’d promised Coulson he’d be ready in the next few days.

He looked out at the city before squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, the world still felt blurry and intangible.

There was a lot of work to be done, physically and mentally. He knew the latter would prove hardest.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a bonus chapter. 
> 
> Also: Bruce Banner has been on a character arc. A few of you have expressed how annoyed you are with his constant conviction of Loki, but be reassured that a big change is coming, and begins in this chapter. We find characters more interesting when they change their view for a reason, when they have a defining moment that pushes them to dig deeper into themselves and realize they can think about things differently than they had before. We are glad you are continuing on that journey with Bruce. He is a favorite of ours, and we have big plans for him in the next storyline – Phase Two.

Loki couldn’t sleep. He had anticipated a peaceful slumber after the intimacy he'd shared with Stark, and it might have been so, if not for Thor ruining everything.

He stayed holed up in his bedroom for a long time, contemplating, scheming, and cursing himself. To escape his anxiety, he'd found Tony Stark much later in the night, when the man’s bedchamber was no longer guarded by soldier in the patriotic suit. 

Once inside, Loki had spent a lengthy amount of time watching the man sleep. He was quite fitful in his slumber until Loki repeated the same faerie lullaby and then ever so carefully transferred some of his magic into Stark for healing purposes. Loki found little desire to covet the energy in arc reactor, not when so much weighed on his mind now, but he did siphon off a little.

He’d argued loudly with Thor earlier with heated words and accusations which ended with a great weight placed on Loki’s shoulders. Redemption felt so far beyond him that the word itself seemed nearly impossible to roll off his tongue. And yet, he had to find a way, for Frigga.

He knew he'd be better off dead. It was the only solution that made sense after the Allfather disowned him and sentenced him to rot in the Hall of Silence in Asgard. 

Loki loved his mother even more for being his one and only advocate upon his return from Earth, but she'd essentially doomed them both. Thor had reminded him that her life was now bound to Loki's ability to atone for his sins of vanity and pride, but he could find no way to save them both.

It was an unachievable task, like asking the Allfather to favor him over Thor. He was simply set up to fail from the moment of his birth, perhaps conception. But of the latter, he'd never know.

Laufey's son. Was he to be a prince of an agreeable marriage or was he an illegitimate bastard of a servant or mistress? Loki would never know these answers, and that gnawed at soul constantly. Odin said he found Loki as a babe, abandoned and alone on an alter. Perhaps he was being ordained as an heir to Laufey, or it could have been that he was unwanted, to become a sacrifice to some Jotun deity?

Loki clearly was unlike any of the frost giants. His stature was incredibly small for their race. Not even Odin's magic could have hidden that disfigurement for all these years. Laufey would not have wanted to claim an enfeebled infant as an heir. He decided that was why no one was there to protect him in the end, when Odin came upon him. He had been alone and abandoned, exposed to the evils that would befall an infant. Clearly, death was the desired effect.

So essentially, Loki concluded that all of this was Odin's fault for tampering with fates. And yet, Odin blamed Loki for it all.

But who was to say the Allfather's words were truth? Loki had always accepted that Odin could and did lie at times when it served Asgard and its allies well. But now he'd never know the truth or any variation of it. The Allfather had made it very clear that he wanted nothing more to do with Loki Laufeyson. He'd been discarded like a broken sword, never to be handled and wielded as a tool by the hand of Odin again.

It hurt, cut him deeply to the bone. Loki couldn't understand how he could hate Odin with such vehemence and yet seek love from that same person he so deeply despised. He was used to conflicting emotions, it was his nature. But for once, he could not see a clear path towards the result he desired. And that was Frigga's welfare and station restored, as well as his own.

Restless still, Loki wandered the dimly-lit hallways of Stark mansion. The city provided light through partially-curtained windows. It was easy enough to navigate the long halls.

He paused, hands linked behind his back. He'd entered into a study of sorts. There was a large ornate writing desk and a bookshelf with a small selection of tomes on science, electricity, theory, and the elements of earth. Loki pursed his lips and chose one, fingered through the pages and became bored immediately.

He laid it down on the edge of the desk and wandered a bit further into the room. There were a few pictures in frames. He recognized one man in particular was in most of the images. Knowing it must be Howard Stark, Loki chuckled to himself at the thought that indeed, vanity ran deep in bloodlines.

There was only one picture with the likeness of Tony. He was a boy, very young in this framed picture. He was held by a young woman, most likely Howard's wife. No person in the image looked genuinely happy. Their false smiles confirmed much of what he'd been told. Stark’s family life was not a pleasant one.

The man was an enigma. Clearly, as he'd been told by Barton, Tony Stark had a brilliant mind, chaotic and impulsive, but brilliant. Loki meant what he'd said. They could cause an awful lot of trouble together. 

Loki felt himself smile at that thought. He still hadn’t put his finger on what it was about the man that drew his attention, but he’d done it. They did have some similarities, like their ability to charge forward seemingly recklessly, confident of their plans to the point of fault. Stark also seemed to possess the same odds  
when it came to luck. He didn't win all the time but Stark was bold enough to make bets, even when the stakes were high.

Loki opened the double doors at the end of the small study. He expected another hallway leading to yet more rooms, and for a moment, he was plunged into darkness. Not even the lights from the city outside touched this room. 

He decided to try to access his magic. He'd not had the peace of mind yet to try and convert the energy he'd siphoned from Stark's arc reactor. Might as well try now. So he let his eyes close softly and recalled one of the first and simplest forms of magic - fire. He was known as the God of Fire in many realms, as he could make it dance and destroy and live and breathe – for good or for evil.

But would it come to him now when he called upon it?

Loki held out his hand, palm up. Instantly, a cool greenish-blue flame burst to life and flickered in the cup of his hand. He smiled, pleased that he could access the energy from the reactor so quickly. He was not happy that the usual bright green flames now mingled with blue ones - the same blue glow of Stark's reactor. He quirked a brow but did not extinguish the light. Instead, he held his hand out ahead of him to observe the room.

Loki's face lit up with a grin far brighter than the magical flame now dancing on his fingertips.

It was a library, one of grand size for a dwelling this small. He could barely see the outline of a fireplace deeper within the expansive room. He mentally aimed for it and flicked the flame from his hand into the firebox. There were great logs within, and they caught afire instantly.

The room was now bathed in a warm golden glow. Loki walked towards a lamp he could see standing on a small wooden table and turned it on. One after another, he filled the room with the light until every shelf was visible to his eyes.

He stood for a moment, slowly turning, drinking in every detail of the grand room. It even smelled mostly right, of parchment and leather and wood and ink.

Loki didn't know how much longer he'd have to stay in this mansion, but for the time he was to be there, he was laying claim to this room. He sprung up the spiral staircase, taking two steps at a time. The tips of his fingers caressed the binding of each book tenderly as he passed them, like greeting old friends with a comforting touch of welcome.

He still had the very same problems he had minutes ago, but he felt considerably lighter in spirit. Soon, the sun would rise and the city would fully wake. With it, Stark and Banner and Thor and everyone else who would make demands of him and accuse him of his wickedness would wake as well. But for this moment, these few hours until then, Loki would pour over words. They'd give him comfort, wisdom, escape, and distraction - all of it - without expecting anything in return. No one in this household was likely to offer such.

~*~

Tony woke alone, abruptly sitting up in the large bed, gasping as the wisps of a dream dissipated in the morning light streaming in through the curtains.

Too many memories haunted this grand mansion, ones that catapulted Tony back to his childhood. It was a place he really didn’t want to spend too much time contemplating.

It did surprise the billionaire that, once more, he managed to sleep through the night. That was a rare occurrence without the help of a sleep aid of the alcoholic variety. 

Tony yawned and took a closer look at his hand. It didn’t hurt at all anymore. In fact, despite the weird dream, he felt amazingly good, other than a few aches in places that had not ached in quite a while. 

Tony grinned as he recalled the events of last night in the wine cellar. He was equally torn between thoughts of ‘holy fuck what did I do’ and ‘oh my god, let’s do it again’.

There were so many reasons why getting close to Loki was an exceedingly bad idea, but Tony truly believed what he’d told Rhodey. The billionaire had done many reprehensible things in his lifetime, and each time, his adopted family gave him second, third and even fourth chances. And if one was going to keep score, Tony’s death count was probably higher than Loki’s. When he’d been considered the merchant of death, he’d shown no mercy to those organizations that exploited others with the weaponry he’s created. Iron Man had been their judge, jury and executioner.

What made me so fucking special? Tony wondered.

He got a glimpse of the being Loki was capable of becoming, and he wanted to bring that to the surface again, peel back the layers of hurt and betrayal to the person beneath. It was ridiculous, really, that Tony felt so protective towards someone who could kill him in the blink of an eye.

Perhaps it was because he could see the same wounded child in Loki that he could see in himself.

Loki had every opportunity to hurt him, and yet time after time, the god had held back, even been gentle at times. Despite everyone’s dire predictions that Tony would be the one left shattered and bleeding in Loki’s wake, that had yet to come to pass.

It would be far too easy for him to reject the damaged trickster. Tony realized he had the potential to harm Loki far more than the god could ever harm him. And that was something Tony would never do. Fuck all if he really knew why. 

Toy was suddenly afraid he’d fallen, and fallen hard. He groaned and dropped his face in his hands. He was so screwed.

He sighed and got out of bed, looked in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. At least two solid nights of sleep made him look a little less like death warmed over and a little more like the playboy he recognized looking back at him.

He found himself pouting a little. Loki had promised to return but hadn’t bothered to wake him up. He knew the trickster had been there. Tony seriously doubted his hand healed the rest of the way on its own. Good thing, that ability to mend bone and flesh.

Curiously though, every mark Loki put on his body with teeth and mouth and fingernails were still there. So he liked to mark his lovers, lay claim, and all that. Tony shuddered in pleasure at the memory of how they’d gotten there.

It might have been interesting to wake up with Loki beside him, but that was entirely wishful thinking for now. He did wonder where Loki was hiding. He was, no doubt, nursing any wounds Thor gave him, physical or emotional, for their tryst. Other than being caught by the Asgardian, Tony was profoundly happy that things had gone as well as they had. Rhodey had been supportive, helpful, and mostly nonjudgmental. It was refreshing.

Now, feeling more energized than he had in days, Tony grabbed a robe and left the room. After opening a few doors, he found the room he started out in and dug into his suitcase. Grabbing a long sleeved black tee, a pair of jeans, and shoes, Tony got dressed. He actually felt human again.

He really hoped Happy had come through with his earlier request. He felt so cut off without Jarvis' comforting sarcasm and his phone. Being without his tech was giving him the shakes.

He needed his stuff delivered or he’d have to make a trip back to the Tower. Tony had a million things to get accomplished while he still had the energy to do so.

He made his way downstairs and to the kitchen where he heard voices.  
James Rhodes topped off Bruce's coffee cup and then walked the pot back to its base on the countertop. He spotted Tony in the doorway. "Morning, sunshine."

Then he frowned and made signals with his fingers at his neck, trying to get Tony to pull the collar of his shirt up higher. The hickeys were noticeable, particularly the one that looked like a puncture wound on his right jugular.

It took Tony’s caffeine deprived brain to process what Rhodey’s frantic gestures meant. Hickeys. He’d forgotten.

Bruce folded the corner of his newspaper down, glanced at Tony, glasses halfway down his nose. "Morning," he said and went back to his reading. A heartbeat later, the paper was folded down again and the judgment began.

Shit! Tony thought. It was way too early in the morning to defend himself against Bruce. He sidestepped the physicist and latched onto the cup of java like a lifeline. He warily regarded Bruce over the rim of the coffee cup. “Got something to say?”

“I’m trying to understand.”

“Well, this is what happens when two people consensually fuck like wild animals in heat.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “You just had to provoke him, didn’t you?” 

“What? Why do I have to continue to defend myself? I’m done with it.” Tony had spent a lot of time thinking about why he'd let Loki fuck him. Reasons Tony was sure no one would understand, well except for Rhodey. Maybe. “I’m not going to apologize for what we did. Loki didn’t force me, coerce me, or blackmail me into doing something I didn’t want to do. Bruce, I know you think I’m out of my mind, but I know Loki won’t hurt me. He’s had plenty of chances to do so and I’m still here. So either accept it or not, but stop giving me hell for things that haven’t happened.” 

Tony leaned against the counter and tried for a casual pose, but Bruce’s palpable disappointment in him was like a physical wound.

"He needs your protection from Fury, from SHIELD, from people like me who want to see him pay for what he did to New York. Of course he's not going to hurt you," Bruce stated, voice growing stronger as he wound himself up. "You think you're the only one who sees that he's getting stronger? The more time he spends here, the closer he is to becoming the powerhouse that he was when we fought him. What then? What's going to keep him from leaving and doing whatever the hell he wants? Or is this the way you're getting him to stay, by whoring yourself out for his carnal pleasures?"

"Okay, hey, you know what? That was low,” Rhodes stated. “I'm starting to wonder why Tony is hanging around you, if all you do is bitch at him."

"That's not what you said last night when you landed in the garden and demanded to know what was going on. You said you agreed with Thor and me, that this whole thing was a bad idea," Bruce countered. "Or have you fallen under Loki's spell too?"

Tony slammed his mug down on the counter, sloshing coffee over the rim. He took a few deep breaths to try to calm down. But at the moment, he didn't care about choosing his words wisely. He slipped into the persona the press loved to exploit: The smarmy bastard with the sharp tongue.

“What’s the matter, Bruce, you jealous? Maybe you’re upset because you aren’t getting laid anymore. Tell me, how long has it been? I could suggest a threesome, since I am such a man slut, but honestly, I don’t think Loki would go for it. You're not his type,” Tony said with a sneer. “You’re far too critical and impossible to please.”

Bruce paled and felt a little dizzy, like he'd been hit hard. He felt completely disoriented. His heart was pounding in his chest. But this wasn't Hulking out. This was a reaction to the type of pain that only came when a friend wounds you with words.

He had a brief moment to wonder if he'd hurt Tony just the same, if he'd been as careless with his words as the engineer was now. If that was true, then Bruce had stepped way over the line and deserved the punch back.

This is why he kept to himself in his youth and would rather spend all his time in a lab. 

A familiar face swam into his memories, and along with it, recollections of intimacy and a deep connection that went beyond physical boundaries. He could never have that again. He was still grieved by the loss of Betty’s love, and Tony just threw it up in his face, unknowingly, or maybe not. Did it matter? The pain was the same. He felt the same yearning for something he'd never have again, and he only had himself to blame.

Bruce wanted Betty to have a normal life - husband, kids, the whole package. She had an open heart that welcomed you in, no matter what kind of freak you were, but Bruce wouldn't burden her with what he'd become and deprive her from all the things she deserved.

Tony had welcomed him in the same. Problem was, he'd extended that welcome to the enemy, and Bruce wasn't comfortable with that. Maybe knowing that Tony saw him as no different a freak than Loki was what disturbed him most.

He swallowed hard, eyes downcast. His pulse was still pounding in his head, heartbeat racing. He hadn't had a panic attack in a long time, but this felt threatening.

Bruce wanted to say he was sorry and ask for forgiveness for the things he said, but his voice simply wasn't there each time he opened his mouth. 

Instead, he turned away and left the kitchen, walked down the long hallway and out the front door. He passed through the massive gate and blended into the people on the streets of Manhattan.

~*~

Tony watched Bruce walk away. He was angry, blazingly so, but his heart sunk down to his shoes as he saw Bruce’s shoulders slump as he left the kitchen. 

Tony could not deal with this. He just couldn’t.

Things were so much simpler when he just had his bots and the suit. He needed to get out of this house with the memories that bombarded him. He needed to get away, run, if no better word was found. He headed for the kitchen door and stopped when Rhodey cleared his throat.

Tony turned at shot his friend a glare. “Don’t. Just don’t. I’m going out. You are not my fucking babysitter.” 

James threw up his hands in a placating manner. “I’m not your enemy either.”

“Just fuck off.” Tony’s mood was petty and belligerent, but then, that was what everyone expected wasn’t it?

He walked out onto the cobblestone courtyard and kept going, past the glass conservatory and out to the sculpted lawn. Tony pushed up his sleeve and hit a button on the slim cuff of metal encircling his wrist. It was keyed to his DNA.

Within sixty seconds, his Mark XI suit landed on the lawn. It was sleek and newly painted and gleamed under the morning sun. Obediently, the suit opened Tony stepped inside, letting the armor enfold him like a cocoon. He took a deep breath and finally felt sheltered from the outside world. In here, nothing could touch him.

In here, Tony was Iron Man. 

The HUD winked into life and Jarvis’s welcoming voice greeted him. “Good morning, sir. It is nice to see you again.”

“J, let’s take this out for a spin. Daddy is feeling a little claustrophobic.” Tony flexed his armor encased hands and did a hasty systems check.

“Do you think that is wise? You are ill, and this prototype has not been thoroughly tested,” Jarvis protested.

“If I wanted to be sensible, I’d go back to the mansion and let everyone there run my life. I want my freedom. I need to fly. Now, are you with me or not?” The need to get the fuck out of here was pressing in on Tony almost to the point of pain.

“Sir, I must protest. At least let me inform--” 

Tony interrupted with a hastily spoken suit override code. “Sorry J, going to manual control.”

Damn it. Even Jarvis was coddling him. Tony really wanted to blow something up. Without hesitating another moment, Tony tilted his head towards the sky and felt himself lift off the ground. He didn’t level out until he was nearly suborbital.

 

~*~

Back in the house, Rhodey’s phone rang. He knew who it was before he could see the caller ID. 

“Colonel Rhodes, I must inform you that sir has taken one of the prototype suits. He has locked me out and is on manual control,” Jarvis explained. “His speed is currently at the upper margin of safety tolerances, and he is quickly approaching the mesosphere. The Mark XI was not designed for the atmospheric pressure and frigid temperature he should now be experiencing.”

"Okay, here we go. He probably just wants to beat the shit out of something." James swiped a hand down his face, noting the light sheen of sweat that dotted his brow already. "Link up with my comms through the Patriot. If he wants to chat with you again, let him know I'm in the air too, but not actively pursuing him."

"I understand."

Within minutes, Rhodes lifted off from the front lawn too. A small crowd had gathered outside Stark Mansion, pointing at him as he rose above the streets. He was worried about Tony's safety. He knew what a lot of New Yorkers thought after the Battle. Most likely, the civilians would believe Iron Man flew off to Stark Tower again, where he was much more inaccessible than he was at the mansion. With any luck, he could get Tony to stay there too. The mansion was bad for the heir of Stark's fortune.

~*~

Thor turned another corner in the large house, striding down the halls with purpose but not without care. Every now and then, something would catch his eye. A trinket or a picture would capture his attention for a moment, then he'd be off again.

"Loki?" He called out again. Thor had woken up peacefully an hour ago, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't in the palace in Asgard. He'd only come in contact with the nurse who had told them that Stark, Banner and the Iron Patriot had all fled a short time ago.

"Loki?" They were basically alone in the mansion. Thor fretted over this greatly. "Where have you gone off to, brother?"

He turned another corner, looked back to make sure he hadn't tried this hall before, and continued forward. He came to wide double doors and pushed them both, entering boldly into what was obviously quite an extensive library, by human standards. A large smile split his face.

"Of course," he said to himself, and wandered over to the chair Loki was lounging in. His brother was reading, he was always been reading back in Asgard, and have given no acknowledgement of Thor's entry. 

Loki looked like he had become part of the furniture itself, sunk deep into the plush cushions, feet propped up on an ottoman, a soft throw over his lap. Thor would have guessed about a dozen books collectively rested on his lap. There were some that had slid down the side of the chair. Others were stacked on the small table beside him. Piles of tomes and papers were on the ground as well.

Thor wasn't interested in their contents at the moment, but he was curious as to what had sparked his brother's interest. He strode over to Loki, noting the orange flames in the great stone firebox were tipped in bluish-green. So, Loki had access to more magic than he thought. That was good to know.

Interrupting his brother while reading was like poking a sleeping dragon, so Thor pulled up one of the large wingback chairs and angled it to face his brother. He didn't have to wait long before Loki lowered the book to his chest and fixed glassy but alert green eyes on Thor.

"Is it morning already?" Loki stretched his arms overhead and rolled his shoulders.

"Morning has almost past, brother. You spent the night here?"

"Mostly."

Thor narrowed his eyes, accusingly.

"I was well-behaved. I healed Stark as best I could with what I could manage, then I left him alone. Does this please you?"

“Quite.” Thor decided to dodge the issue with Stark. He wasn't able to discuss this arrangement with Loki yet without feeling half as mad with anger as Dr. Banner. It not end well for either party, but Loki was as hard headed as Tony Stark, and hence the great problem. "Listen, brother, I have concerns."

"Must we have this conversation again?" Loki closed the book with a snap and tossed it on top of the others at his side. "You admonish me and my bed partners no matter whom I choose. I grow weary of it, Thor."

"This has nothing to do with your bed partners. Hear me out," Thor demanded. He slouched down in his chair and put his feet on the ottoman too, earning him a scowl from Loki. He moved his feet over to the edge of the piece of furniture so they weren't touching. Thor rolled his eyes and exhaled laboriously. “Child.”

“Oaf.”

“Shut up and listen,” Thor said without malice. “I've discovered that we're alone in this house now."

"Alone? As in everyone else has gone off somewhere?"

"Aye. The male nurse-"

"I believe the servant has a name," Loki conjectured.

"Yes, but I do not remember it," Thor said with a casual wave of his hand. "He told me that there was a quarrel this morning and that Dr. Banner fled on foot. Stark took his iron suit to the skies and was shortly thereafter followed by the patriotic metal man."

Loki sat forward, resting his feet on the ground and his elbows on his knees. "So you are saying there is no one here of consequence."

"Loki," Thor warned. "I know that look."

"What look?" Loki said, spreading his arms out wide in innocence. "You said this concerns you, so I know you understand the implications. Stark said he would allow us sanctuary, and now he is not here to ensure that. Yes, I am concerned too. But now is our opportunity to reassess our options, Thor."

"There are no other options, Loki. Certainly not the mischievous ones that flit through your head like faeryflies." 

"It is not mischief I seek," Loki reassured, "though it would be refreshing."

"I cannot say I agree to that." 

“We need to ensure our safety without Stark.”

Thor frowned. “And how do you propose to do that, when the Allfather is most certainly watching Stark’s health to measure your level of redemption?”

Thor stood and followed his brother to the large window that faced the greenhouse nearby. 

“Are you considering another realm?”

“No,” Loki admitted, “but I like having options. What about Svartleheim? It has all but been abandoned for millennia.”

“Abandoned and destroyed,” Thor said. “I doubt we’d find any sanctuary there. Our grandfather left it in utter ruin, Loki.”

“Your grandfather.”

Thor began to protest when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Before he could speak, the courtyard outside was teeming with men dressed from head to toe in black gear. They carried large heavy guns that they held in both hands that glowed blue inside the core of the mechanisms. 

Steve Rogers had called them HYDRA weapons.

“This is was my concern,” Thor said, backpedaling away from the window. 

“Mine as well, hence the idea of Svartleheim.” 

“Too late now.” Thor held out his hand for Mjolnir which arrived through the ceiling nearly instantly.

“It’s Fury,” Loki stated, turning away from the window. "I could teleport nearby. Where do you want to meet?"

"Not wise, given the unpredictability of your magic. You could end up anywhere. They'd find you too quickly, Loki."

He knew Thor was right. There was no time to coordinate, and neither of them could designate a place to meet near the mansion, since they weren't familiar with this part of the city. It wasn't even a guarantee that Loki could make it. And then, where could they possibly go?

“Jarvis,” Loki called out, hoping to communicate through the artificial intelligence with Stark. “Why doesn’t he answer?”

“I do not think he can hear us here. Brother, you cannot attack them,” Thor said, chasing behind Loki through the maze of furniture in the library. “SHIELD is not our enemy, though I do not necessarily count them as our ally, but you have sworn to redeem yourself in their eyes.”

“I swore nothing to SHIELD. And what will you have me do?” Loki reached the doorway but was brought up short buy the sound of a window breaking in the hallway. He could hear loud foot fall around the corner. “Damn.”

Thor soon realized there was no barricade to exploit. “Let me talk to them.” 

“They are not here to converse with us,” Loki exclaimed. “They just broke into Stark’s home, unbidden, while he was away. They’ve been waiting for this moment, don’t you see? Their plan is to either execute me or abduct me. I am keen on neither option.”

Thor frowned deeply. "I will allow them to do neither.”

“Then fly us out of here. Now!”

The doors burst open and the room filled with SHIELD’s STRIKE team. A couple of them carried a smaller version of the Destroyer weapon, Asgardian weaponry pared down and manufactured for human utilization. Loki had felt its bite before, when Agent Coulson used it against him. He wasn’t sure his body would withstand its ire currently. 

With his back pressed against Thor’s, he watched the agents circle them. They were featureless with their black helmets and black goggles and black gear covering their entire bodies. Loki was able to manifest his throwing knives but knew he’d be no match for their great number. He wondered why Thor had stayed his hand, when they so clearly were threatened.

“Loki. I’d say I was surprised to see you, but I’m not.” Director Nick Fury sauntered through the doorway, hands clasped behind his back.

"You knew we were here?" Thor asked.

"A little bird told me," he answered, smiling in an unfriendly manner

"Banner," Loki said in a snarl.

Fury shrugged his shoulders, neither confirming nor denying. He casually looked around at the library before his eyes settled on the dark prince. “I reviewed the footage of whatever show you two put on last night at Stark Tower. You are looking good for a man who was electrocuted by the God of Thunder. Was that just to appease me, Thor, or did you two start filming for some Hollywood tell-all without informing me?”

Thor glanced over his shoulder at Loki. His brother was tense and ready to spring into battle at the slightest unsettling twitch. “Fury, what right have you to force your way into this dwelling without permission and threaten us? We are not here to harm anyone.”

Fury’s brow rose. “Why don’t you two come back to my office and we can discuss the situation. I have some questions and some demands, reminders of those intergalactic regulations you helped us design to prevent these situations from occurring.”

Loki’s laugh was bitter with animosity. “To what end?”

“That’s up to you,” Fury answered. Then he looked at Thor. “Why are you here? The deal was that your brother stayed as far away from earth as possible, preferably in a jail cell under Odin’s lock and key. Did you misinterpret that condition of Loki's release to you?”

Thor’s scowl deepened. He opened his mouth to rebuke the director when another operative entered the library holding the male nurse by the shirt collar. He was bleeding from the nose but looked no worse for wear.

“Bobby,” Thor said, suddenly remembering his name.

“Sir, we found this one making his way down the hall. He was trying to make a phone call but we intercepted it before it connected.”

The agent handed Fury a broken Stark phone. He looked at the cracked glass and sighed heavily. 

“See what happens when you’re on our planet?" he said to Loki. "People get hurt.”

“I’m not hurt,” Bobby protested.

“Son, you’re life just got a lot more complicated,” Fury promised.

Bobby tried his best to return Fury’s glare, but frankly, the man intimidated the hell out of him. And even though his military career could go merrily up in flames, he managed to find his voice and speak up about the goings-on in the mansion. 

“My life has been complicated since going to work in Stark Tower, sir, but I will admit that all I’ve seen of Loki so far is that he’s a grouch and he sleeps a lot and eats like a bird. He also helped one of your top agents, at the peril of his own life. We all did; Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, and Loki. So I don’t see why you have to treat us like enemies.” 

Fury laughed. “This is me being courteous, son.” Then he narrowed his one eye and fixed his intense gaze on the young man. “You do not want to see what I do to my enemies.”

Bobby swallowed hard. He tried to ignore the blood that trickled down his face from his nostrils. He was acutely aware of it dripping onto the Persian rug at his feet. "Do you… do you even know Mr. Stark? He’s not going to take kindly to you breaking into his home.” 

“Well, I don’t take kindly to Stark harboring an Asgardian fugitive who destroyed human lives for fun. Will you take responsibility for Loki? Do you want to go outside and tell the crowd forming out there that he deserves their forgiveness? Then go ahead, soldier. Tell them that the lives he took in the Battle were meaningless. But where I come from, when someone murders innocent people, they deserve justice. I am here to ensure that.”

Bobby couldn’t bring himself to meet anyone’s eyes – certainly not Fury’s, most definitely not Loki’s. He thought he knew where he stood, until everything the Director said made sense. The death toll from that day was completely preventable, and Loki was to blame. 

"Now that’s settled,” Fury continued, “the way I see it, Thor, you have two options. You can come with me back to my office or you can refuse."

"And if we refuse?" Thor asked.

Fury shrugged and pulled out a large stone from his pocket. He watched eagerly as Loki's face changed from rage to recognition and then resignation.

“You have an arcstone.” Loki’s face pinched up tightly. He stood up straight from his crouched position, already giving up the fight. He raised his chin and looked at Fury with what little defiance he could muster. "Where did you get that?”

"This little thing?" Fury taunted. "This was given to me by your very own brother before you left for your Asgardian prison cell."

Loki nearly hissed at Thor, glaring at him madly.

"Let me remind you, director," Thor stated, "it can only be used once. I gave it to you so you could call on me should you have dire need for my aid. If you use it now when there is no threat, you will lose all diplomacy with Asgard. I believe your Midgardian term, is crying wolf."

"Okay then, I guess you’re saying I won’t need to use it. I'll tell my driver you're coming along," Fury concluded, mocking as if he were thumbing a ride. “We’ll use the office not far from here, just over the river to one of our facilities in Flushing. Manhattan has already had enough of Loki, if you know what I mean.”

He put the stone in his pocket and strode towards the doorway. “You," he said to Bobby, "with me."

Thor exchanged a look with his brother. If they didn't follow, and Fury called upon Odin, it would be the death knell for their fates.

He watched the panic flicker about Loki’s face. He was pale, haunted again by ghosts from his recent past while in the custody of SHIELD’S worst agents. He could see Loki bracing for more pain and suffering. "Brother, I promise-"

"You lie." Loki accused bitterly. His eyes settled on Fury’s back unkindly. “I am a prisoner, once more. Your promises mean little.”

“Loki-” 

“Move.” One of the STRIKE agents prodded Loki with the Destroyer weapon. “I’d love to put a hole in you, for Coulson’s sake.”

“Do it,” Loki provoked, teeth bared.

Thor grabbed his brother’s arm and hauled him towards the door, away from the threatening agents. 

“Hel, have mercy on your father,” Loki muttered under his breath. “Will you not end my misery?”

Thor felt overwhelmed with sadness, not by Fury and the demands put on them, but because of Loki’s deep despair. 

There had to be a way out of this madness. He closed his eyes for a moment in prayer to Frigga. She had the gift of Sight. Surely, she’d seen a favorable outcome to this chaos. 

His faith in her seemed all that was left.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has been some concern expressed regarding the behavior of several of our characters, namely Bruce and Nick Fury. They have reasons for acting as the voice of reason in this convoluted mess Tony and Loki have made. They have to be made to see that Loki is able and willing to change and that trust will not come easy or rapidly. So hang in there. All the characters are a work in progress, adapting and evolving. In the timeline, this is only the beginning of day THREE since the Asgardians arrived at Stark Tower.
> 
> Additional note: I hope you have never experienced your city or country being attacked by a terrorist who caused massive loss of life, destruction of beloved landmarks, and the imminent threat that goes with it quite possibly happening again. It leaves you full of fierce rage and a sorrow so bone deep that you seek action in any way (helpful or harmful) to try to alleviate the psychological trauma of it. That is what Bruce, Nick, and the public at large are still feeling. In reality, people wouldn't take too well to one of the country's most prominent figures housing the same terrorist that caused all that death and fear and rage a couple of months after the fact. We tried to maintain some sense of realism in this story. 
> 
> This isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea, we understand that. It is why we are so very grateful to everyone who has continued to read and enjoy it.  
> \- Loki Doki

Clint really couldn’t say what woke him. Maybe it was the hum of the heating system kicking on or the rain striking the windows. All he knew was that he was warm, blessedly warm. That was something Clint hadn’t experienced since before he was compromised by Loki. The archer suspected the cold came from within, not from any outside influence.

He glanced at the clock and was shocked. He’d had five solid hours of nightmare-free sleep. It was still dark outside and he felt no reason to move. 

He could hear Phil slightly snoring, which the man only tended to do when exhausted. Clint found it endearing and smiled fondly.

He knew he had a hard road ahead. But for right now he could not imagine any other place he’d rather be – perhaps in Phil’s bed, but that could come later. Clint closed his eyes and drifted off, reassuring himself that Coulson would be there – alive, in charge, and expecting his best – when the sun rose soon. 

~*~

Phil's eyes opened. He remained still as stone. Training kept him immobile while assessing the situation around him. His heart beat like a drum in his throat, but then he began to recognize his surroundings: the laptop on the side table, his glasses, cell phone charging beside the lamp. He could see sunlight spilling onto the floor in the distance beyond the large desk in the guest suite he'd chosen in Stark Tower. Sunlight, white beams pouring through curtainless windows. He could even see puffy clouds from this lofty height above the city. He glanced at the clock: 0824 hours.

Coulson couldn't remember sleeping this late in years. He'd only done so if injury held him back from his semper fi style working outs with Sitwell at dawn.

This oddity was acceptable in the face of his present circumstances. Visible beyond the edge of his bed and into the living area was a well-muscled and tanned arm, limply hanging off the couch.

In his heart, Phil knew the two of them had a long way to go before they could have any sort of a healthy relationship, given the demons they'd have to face and the past they' have to lay to rest. But for this moment, this tiny glimpse of what the future could hold, Phil felt optimistic. No, he felt a little euphoric. This was something he hadn't allowed himself in decades. It was the giddy kind of mushy stuff that only happens in movies and novels. It didn't happen to people who fought aliens beside superhumans armed with hi-tech weaponry. It certainly didn't happen to soldiers and assassins. And it really wasn't supposed to happen with superiors and their subordinates.

All the same, this was happening, and it was now Coulson's reality. 

He remembered telling Barton to sleep on the couch last night. Phil had been so tired, more exhausted than he'd remembered being in a long while. But because he felt safe and relatively protected in Stark's Tower with Jarvis, Cap, and Natasha nearby, and Clint mere feet away from him, Phil slept deeply. It was the kind of sleep that restores the soul and resets the inner balance. It was rare. Still, Clint was too far away.

Intimacy - Coulson didn't want to even begin to think about the ramifications of those types of choices. All it took was one twitch of interest from his treacherous body and Phil was up like a shot, padding barefoot into the bathroom. He locked the door, ensuring his privacy. 

He wanted Clint to stand on his own two feet again, to be his equal in this relationship. It would be too easy to become Clint's pseudo-drug, to develop a co-dependency right now, like a crutch or a vice distracting him from harsh reality.

If Clint could accept this new reality, this new life after Loki and the Battle of New York -- accept that he had essentially been a victim, learn to deal with it, and now move forward -- then Phil would be enthusiastic to meet him halfway and experiment with intimacy. Otherwise, he predicted it could very well end in disaster.

Phil turned on the faucet and began to strip down, wincing in pain as he tried to pull his shirt over his head. His chest and back hurt terribly where he'd been stabbed and then opened further during surgery. It was like his muscles had frozen up overnight and weren't anything close to pliable yet. The pain left him a little breathless and shaky. He stepped into the shower and stood under the hot water, still in the t-shirt. When his muscles were a little more flexible, he'd try again to take the damn thing off. If that still didn't work, he'd rip it down the middle. He'd have to talk to Banner again.

The situation with his body pissed him off and almost soured his good mood, but not quite. He was alive. If he was going to ask Barton to be brave and heal his wounds, then Coulson should expect the same from himself. It would take time but the projected outcome was worth it.

 

Clint heard Phil get up and head to the shower. He had quite a vivid imagination. He found himself rubbing the heel of his hand across his crotch and thought ‘down boy.’

The archer rolled onto his back and took stock. Clint realized he felt better than he had in ages. He stood up and walked the perimeter of the apartment four times, stretching and constantly moving. Needing to do something with the excess energy, Clint dropped to the carpeted floor. Push ups. Push ups were the remedy.

After a few minutes, Clint was a little disgusted at the way his arms trembled a bit. The fact that he let himself get so far out of fighting trim would not endear him to his team. Upping the ante and determined to work past the burn, Clint put one fist behind his back and proceeded to do the push ups one armed, switching off every once in awhile, not caring that his tee shirt rode up or that sweat now dotted a line down his spine.

Phil exited the steamy bathroom feeling slightly better. He'd been able to get the t-shirt off with minimal pain once the heat warmed his seemingly-frozen muscles and he did a little stretching. He wrapped a towel around his waist after drying off. 

He paused, hand on the doorknob, wondering if Clint would still be there - asleep or awake. He didn't want to draw the man's attention to his scars again, so he grabbed another towel and threw it around his neck, allowing the bulk of it to cover the center of his torso. There was no need to deny what happened, or the ugly white scars that he now bore, but there was also no need to parade them around, particularly when they'd just cause more guilt in Clint.

He walked through the short hall towards the large closet area across from the bathroom when a shadow caught his eye in the main part of the suite. He scowled and decided to investigate.

Yes, Barton was definitely up and awake. Watching his ass bob up and down as the man did one-armed pushups was causing a stir again in places Coulson didn't want to attend to right now.

It was Clint's arms and hands that Phil's eyes found most appealing. He was pretty sure Barton knew this, and why shouldn't Clint be proud? He could tell Barton had lost a little muscle mass, but it was nothing that couldn't be replaced with regular training again. That was, once Clint dealt with the mental issues plaguing his mind that translated into physical fatigue and wasting.

Still, the man was a sight for anyone to behold, muscles flexing and relaxing in his back, shoulders, and arms. Coulson licked his lips and then pressed them together, crossing his arms over his chest. He thought of about a dozen inappropriate things to say, but what came out was a simple and warm, "Good morning."

Clint paused his impromptu workout to draw his legs under him in a crouch. He sat back and began ab crunches. Breathing a little heavy now, the archer looked up at his handler. Coulson stood there in a towel with another draped around his neck. With a groan, Clint concentrated on his SO’s midsection. “Morning, sir. Just thought I’d get started with training.”

Clint really tried to keep his eyes off Coulson, who was flushed and warm from his shower. Tried, if he had to look at his handler, to make sure it was Coulson's face he connected with and not the agent’s lean hips barely hidden by that damned towel.

Panting now, Clint relished the burn of his sorely neglected muscles and relieved that his interest wasn’t visible enough to show though his sweatpants.

“So, are we getting my stuff today? Hope there's time for breakfast. I'm gonna need a shower too.” Clint was actually hungry, starving in fact. It was like his body was waking up after a long slumber and demanded fuel. Sweat gathered in the hollow of his throat, along his collarbone and trickled down his torso, making the tee shirt cling damply to his chest and deeply ridged abdomen.

"Yes to all three of your inquiries," Phil answered. He studied the archer, saw the hint of a spark in his eyes. Hawkeye was returning.

"Jemma Simmons is bringing over a vehicle for our use around 1000 hours. I need to make some calls this morning, make sure certain privileges are still in effect. I also need you to let me handle things with the agents we may encounter at the facility today. Sitwell will probably clear the arsenal out, since my current status of being alive is Level 8 and above. It is actually Sitwell that may prompt you to feel a little uneasy and defensive about getting your gear back and using the training grounds. So don't let him bait you."

Clint stopped his workout and laid on his back just breathing. Out of all the agents Clint encountered after the battle for New York, Sitwell had been the least of his opponents in the nasty comment department.

The archer put up with whispers of murderer and traitor for weeks as he went to and from his medical and psyche appointments. Time to readjust and decompress they called it. Clint knew it for what it was. House arrest until they could determine if he was a threat or not.

Clint had to wonder though if the reason why Sitwell acted somewhat human towards him was because he knew Coulson was alive, not well, but alive.

The archer planted his hands palm down on either side of his head, arched his back and flipped neatly to his feet. “Gotcha. I promise not to shoot anyone, sir.”

Clint winced when he realized his flippant comment hit a little too close to home. Other agents seeing the archer with a weapon might prove to be problematic. At best they were twitchy around Clint. At worst, the agents he might encounter could be tempted to shoot first and ask questions later. His saving grace would be Coulson at his side, proof that Clint did not totally fuck it all up.

“Relax, Barton.”

“Okay, right,” he interrupted, trying to change the subject before Phil could really begin anything. “I’ll grab a shower, throw some clothes on, and meet you in Stark’s kitchen? I’ll make us something to eat, something that won’t nuke your stomach. I know pizza was not exactly the best choice last night.” 

"Sounds good, but no oatmeal or grits,” Phil said, pulling a face. He thought Clint would probably make one of his omelets. Those had magic in them somewhere. Not Loki's kind of magic, but the kind that only Clint possessed. 

“Got it no oatmeal. Although I’ll have you know I make a kickass bowl of grits.”

The archer left Coulson’s room and went back to his own. Clint looked at his own unslept in bed and grinned. He was not sure if there would be an invite for a second night. Coulson valued his privacy and Clint was not sure how far he’d made it through the agent's all-business demeanor, whether his continued close proximity would become tedious. He would just have to let Coulson make the next move.

Clint rushed through his shower, dried and stepped out of the bathroom without a thought about his nudity. He barely caught movement out of the corner of his eye and was able to block the forearm coming for his face. But he wasn’t ready for the hands that grabbed him and then he was airborne.

The archer landed flat on his back on the bed with a grunt that turned into a gasping wheeze as his abdomen was forcefully sat on.

“You’re getting slow, Barton.”

“Jesus, Nat. Watch the goods!” Clint tried to shove his partner off but she wasn’t budging.

“Don’t need to watch ‘em. Remember, Clint. I’ve seen your goods. They’re not that impressive.” Natasha smiled a predatory smile and rested her elbows on Clint’s sternum and propped her chin in her hands.

“Hey, I’ve had no complaints so far." Clint thought her pointy elbows should be registered as lethal weapons. Strike that Natasha’s whole body was a lethal weapon.

"Seriously, Natasha. Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better, but I’m coping. At least I know how to do that,” Natasha said wistfully.

“So where did you go after we talked?” Clint asked, neither one concerned in the least that Clint was still naked.

“I went to the roof to think and then I spent the night on the sofa.” Natasha was not going to mention how comforting it was to sleep beside someone who didn’t expect anything in return. Steve was so blessedly warm to curl up against. Natasha hated the cold with a passion.

Steve kept his arms around Natasha all night, neither of them saying a word. She’d actually let her guard down enough to sleep deeply, which amazed Natasha. So far, Clint was the only one who had that privilege. Natasha had awoken at first light with her head still pillowed on Steve’s broad chest. She’d taken a moment to luxuriate in the sensation before carefully extricating herself and leaving the room.

Heading to Barton’s was her first stop. Now, she sat up on his torso and eyed him skeptically. “I could ask the same thing about you. Your bed’s not been slept in and you seem… better. More rested than I’ve seen in weeks.” 

“Coulson asked me to stay actually. On his couch,” he added reluctantly, when her brows shot up. “And, I didn’t think he should be alone, you know, after being in a coma and all.” 

Clint avoided looking his partner in the eyes, which prompted a delighted little laugh from her. 

“Really? The only reason you stayed was because you feared for Coulson’s health?”

“Not really,” Clint winced as Nat dug elbow into his sternum, “Geeze, Nat. Okay, I wanted to sleep in his room, but nothing happened.”

Natasha cocked a brow.

“I am telling the truth. Do we really need to be having a conversation about my sex life when I’m naked?” Clint whined.

“What sex life? I thought you said nothing happened?” Natasha smirked.

“We kissed once, okay? Happy now?”

“Yes.” Natasha rolled off her partner and lithely got to her feet. She watched as he sat up and began to dress. “So what are you not saying?

“I… I just don’t want to fuck this up, Nat. I need to take it slow. I don’t want to do something we both might regret.”

“You will regret not doing anything.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious now,” he muttered, pulling on some jeans. “Listen, are you hungry? I promised Coulson I’d make breakfast. I’ll make something for you too if you stop needling me about my sex life.”

“Your non-sex life, you mean.”

“Look whose talking.”

She smiled, perhaps slightly uncomfortable at the memory of curling up next to Rogers all night. “I’m famished, actually, and if you are cooking, I am eating what you’ll serve.” 

“Fine, I’ll go start. You can use the shower in here. Do you have some clothes? If not you can borrow a tee. You’re stuck for pants though. Mine would fall off you.”

“I had a duffle in the trunk of the car. I brought it up earlier. It’s in the hall. Besides I figure if you’re going to be shacking up with Coulson, I can crash here.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” he said, sheepishly. “Meet us in Stark’s kitchen when you’re done. I’ll keep you some food warm.” 

Clint kissed Nat lightly on the cheek, thinking she could sorely use the human contact.

Natasha smiled softly at him as he left the room, wondering for just one fleeting moment what it would have been like if she had stayed intimate with the archer. 

~*~

When Steve woke, the rest of the floor was quiet. He was alone. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, bathing the room in a faint golden light. He still couldn’t get over the view. The captain got off the couch and stretched, washed up and put on his shoes. He crossed the room and stared out the windows to the city below.

Part of him wished Natasha would have still been curled up at his side. The other part was relieved she wasn’t. It somewhat discomfited him that she’d been so vulnerable. It brought out all his protective instincts. Steve remembered how much Peggy complained when he tried too hard to shelter her. Natasha reminded him a lot of that beautiful spitfire. They were both strong, attractive women who had to carve out their place in the world. Yet there was a softer side to them too, never letting Steve forget they were the fairer sex.

Steve felt connected to Natasha in a way he’d never been before. They now had someone in common. He was glad that she was there for Bucky through all the horrifying things that happened. He had someone, when Steve wasn’t around.

Guilt, sharp and stabbing like a knife, caused him to bite his lip. He rested his fist on the glass. He should have been certain Bucky was really gone and not barely surviving somewhere cold and alone before he abandoned hope and left the area. Somehow, Steve would have to deal with the fact that he left his best friend behind. He knew Bucky wouldn’t have done the same to him.

“When did I become such a whiner?” Steve said against the cool glass. He laughed ruefully. Bucky would have kicked his ass for acting so pathetic. He could always count on his friend to knock him off his ‘Captain America’ pedestal and bring him back down to the street punk from Brooklyn who fought like a crippled honeybadger.

Steve knew needed to pull his shit together if he wanted in on the mission to bring James Barnes in from the cold. He needed to clear his head. So with a new determination, the super soldier left the room and took the elevator to the lobby. He nodded at the construction crews just coming into work for the day. Once clear of the building, Steve took a deep breath. The smells of the city filled his nose, not altogether pleasant but familiar. Despite recent events, New York had endured and moved on.

That was something Steve still needed to do. If this mission was a success, he could finally lay one of his ghosts to rest by bringing Bucky home alive.

So with a goal in mind, Steve began to run, jogging at an easy pace through the streets towards the apartment SHIELD kept for him. He was barely breathing hard when he ran up the steps to his small residence. The run had done a lot to shake the cobwebs out of his brain. He felt energized and ready to face everyone again.

The super soldier walked into the bedroom and shed his clothes, tossing them in the hamper. Steve took a military quick shower, dried off, and dressed, pulled a pair of boots on and laced them. Steve grabbed a duffle out of the closet and packed several changes of clothes, his toiletry kit, and his sketch pad and pencils. Taking a final look around, Steve realized just how much of him was missing from this space. It didn’t look like anyone in particular lived here.

He was not really sad to leave and move to Stark Tower for a spell. Accumulating bits and baubles had never been a priority. There had been no time before while traveling with the USO, and even less after he became a full fledged soldier with his own team. Besides, Steve was not sure at all what was going to happen to him over the next several weeks, so better to pack up now then try and do it later.

Lastly, he grabbed his leather jacket and locked the apartment door on his way out.

He took the subway back to Stark Towers and was not even stopped by security as he got on the elevator to the penthouse levels. He heard noise from the kitchen as he entered the living area. Steve walked into the kitchen to find Agents Barton, Romanoff and Coulson looking rather domestic and familial as they shared the morning together. Clint was cooking at the stove and the others were sitting at the bar. They seemed to be discussing a road trip. 

Steve took a seat at the other end of the breakfast bar. Natasha looked at him and nodded a greeting, then turned back to Coulson. Steve had trouble meeting her eyes. He had no idea how she would react this morning to their sharing the couch last night.

“Morning. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Steve had to wonder what they had planned and if Coulson should be going anywhere.

“Nope, just making breakfast. Would you like some? There’s plenty.” Clint offered. As usual he’d prepped way too much food. He looked over his shoulder and noted Cap’s duffle sitting on the floor at the end of the bar. “So it’s official now. We are all cohabitating with Stark. We’re either insane or really desperate.”

“I’m going with ‘convenient location’,” Steve supplied. “And yeah, I’ll take some of that. Smells delicious.” 

“Super-sized omelet coming right up.”

Steve watched as Clint broke eggs into another pan. This omelet was going to be substantially larger than the rest. When it was ready, a steaming breakfast plate was placed in front of him with four pieces of bacon and a couple of slices of toast. “Wow. Is this listed on your skill set at SHIELD?”

Clint’s grin was wide. “I don’t know. I think Coulson keeps this talent of mine off the record.” 

“Among others,” Coulson muttered, then continued his muted conversation with Natasha without skipping a beat. 

Clint was the last one to sit with his own food. He began to eat, happily noting most of Coulson's plate was clean. It was a far cry from the pizza disaster from last night. Natasha pushed her breakfast around her plate eating less than half. Clint knew Nat was still troubled but would do what was necessary to get the job done.

“So I heard you talking when I came in,” Steve mentioned. “Are you planning a trip today?” 

Phil wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin, feeling comfortably full. "We are heading over to Flushing to the SHIELD weapons depot. Barton’s gear is currently in lock up there.”

“Is that new? I don’t remember any facility in Flushing.”

“It's been there all along, Cap. It’s cleverly underneath the Stark Expo. Howard help build a small but quite impressive facility underneath his ego-based theme park."

"Why I am not surprised?" Clint muttered, rolling his eyes.

"We will begin advanced close protection training tomorrow in preparation for extracting Barnes in six days, but for today, I need to hash out politics and specifics. While I do that, I believe Barton is eager to use the range and Romanoff wants to hurt something that resembles the upper echelon of SHIELD. I'm hoping instead that she chooses the BOBs," he said, referring to the human-shaped punching bags used for MMA-style fighting and weapons throwing practice.

"I'd like you to head up the immediate counteraction and close quarters combat training refresher, Captain. It's kind of your thing," Coulson added fondly. "We'd like your assistance, if you're in for this mission."

“Just try and keep me away, sir,” Steve replied with a smile. Finally, he would be able to do something productive. He literally felt twitchy in his own skin. Steve was not used to such a long period of inactivity. He’d gone on missions for SHIELD, when he’d finally been cleared by medical after his thaw, but since the battle for New York, the Captain had been sidelined. Frankly, no one really knew what to do with the Avengers once the threat had passed, and their downtime just made the powers that be that much more nervous.

Natasha pushed her plate away. She’d eaten just enough to satisfy Clint. He’d glanced at her frequently and frowned when he realized she was barely touching her food. Literally overnight, her world had been turned upside down, emotions she’d long buried simmered just beneath the surface, ones that she could not afford. They made her vulnerable, weak and exposed.

Sitting and brooding was not her style. She wanted violence, mayhem, and a way to work out all the crap in her head. Natasha couldn’t afford to think about the past, about what could have been and what might still be possible. There was no telling what condition James would be in when they extracted him, how much he would remember, or even if James would remember her. Natasha lost her shot at a normal life, at a happy ending with the first throat she’d slit, but Coulson was right. James was a good man, an American soldier, and he deserved to come home. She would help and then fade back into the shadows where she belonged.

“I can be ready to go in five. We can’t sit around here all day. My car is in the parking garage if we need wheels. Of course we could always ‘borrow’ one of Stark’s.” Natasha pushed away from the breakfast bar, put her plate in the sink and waited for a reply.

"I'd like to take the '32 Roadster out for a spin," Coulson said with a smile, "but it's not worth the temper tantrum I'd get from Stark."

He finished his coffee and got up to put it in the sink, remembering at the last moment not to affectionately touch Clint's shoulder as he passed by the archer.

"Agent Simmons is coming at 1000 hours to deliver a candy car," he explained to Natasha, referring to the slang term for one of the souped up SHIELD SUVs with the bells and whistles -- all the extra armor plating, tech, and weaponry that SHIELD could muster. "You can follow behind me if you wish, but I've got point," he stated, wanting the lead into the facility in Flushing.

He could understand Natasha's desire for freedom, her need to have an escape vehicle available, should she feel the overwhelming desire to run. Not that Coulson was anticipating she'd flee pre-mission, but he had already planned for that variable should it come to that. She had unwavering tunnel vision on missions but became edgy and uncomfortable when emotion came into play. This was upcoming week was going to be the true test of Agent Natasha Romanoff.

He noted that Rogers had almost finished his breakfast and Clint was done. So it was time for his game face. He raised his chin and addressed them assuredly:

"Special Operations Team Delta," he addressed Romanoff and Barton, "you've been called to duty. Captain, you'll be our plus one. I will be your spec ops commander for this mission. Training begins today at 1000 hours. There will be pertinent briefings every twenty four which will require your attendance. Mandatory eight-hour rest periods with four lean meals a day are in effect until further notice. For the next ninety six hours, you will follow this regimen and perform SaCT standards for spec ops extraction teams," he explained, knowing Barton, in particular, needed the 'strength and conditioning training' that Cap would execute with precision. He needed it too, but that would come after his meetings with Sitwell and Fury.

Coulson looked them over once more, adrenaline already tingling in his veins. He watched their expressions intensify, their spines straighten, their chins rise confidently. These were the agents he both respected and relied upon. Rogers looked just as heroic and noble as ever.

"Meet me in the private garage in 25 minutes. Understood?"

Instantly recognizing Coulson’s authority, Steve barely stopped himself from snapping off a salute. Although he knew the agent would no doubt get a charge out of it. “Understood, sir.”

Clint managed to ignore the frisson of heat that uncurled in his belly at Coulson's tone. It made him wish Coulson would pin him against the counter and order Clint to do filthy things to him. The archer shook his head. He really needed to separate mission mode from off duty in his mind. But this was the Coulson he never thought he’d hear again, the reassuring authoritative voice that kept Clint grounded and focused.

“I’ll be ready, sir,” Clint replied with an upward quirk of his lips, one that was rewarded by the warmth in his handler's eyes.

“I’ll be there,” Natasha said as she left the kitchen.

Coulson watched them all disperse. He felt more apprehension than expected. He walked to the window and looked out at the construction below. New York was beginning to look whole again after the Battle. He hoped bringing Barnes home wasn’t going to be the kind of mistake that would destroy lives. His intention was healing and strengthening, but “the path to Hell” and all…

“Sir,” Jarvis interrupted. “Agent Jemma Simmons has arrived and is requesting access to the VIP garage.”

“She’s early.”

“Yes. She has explained that she was hoping to meet with Dr. Banner in the free time before meeting up with your team.”

Coulson grinned. “She’s going to be quite disappointed that he’s not here.”

“Should I tell her so?”

“No, allow me,” he stated, heading for the elevator to the garage. “She whines in the cutest way when she can’t “science” with her people.”

“In the cutest way?” Jarvis repeated slowly. “You should know, I’ve recorded that in my databanks should I need to use it as blackmail.”

Coulson chuckled warmly. “We’re going to get along just fine, Jarvis.”

“My thoughts, precisely.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes we are still alive. I promise.

As requested, Steve showed up at the appointed place but a full ten minutes early. Agent Coulson was already there leaning against a bright, shiny and rather imposing large black SUV. Steve was also not too surprised when Agent Barton dropped down beside the car from wherever he’d been perched. “I get shotgun.” 

Coulson's mouth twitched. 

With thirty seconds to spare, Natasha exited the elevator, nodded at everyone and got into the back of the car. Usually, she would jostle and tease Clint as to who got to ride up front, but not this time. Coulson shared a knowing glance with Barton before getting into the driver’s seat.

He had yet to sit down and speak with Romanoff since the initial briefing, but he knew she wasn't ready yet. She could turn to Barton for her needs right now and perhaps to Rogers as well, but there would come a time soon that he'd need to meet her halfway. One thing was certain - he'd stay out of the sparring ring with her.

He drove the SUV through the city streets and headed for the Stark Expo. It felt good to be behind the wheel again, hear the honking horns of the cabs, the thrum of motorcycles, and smell the exhaust from traffic. He had his favorite agents and lifelong hero with him. They were training to extract the remaining member of Coulson's "Dream Team" in a week. This felt damn good.

Things were still tense and somewhat unpredictable, but this was a future he'd only dared to hope for while under the influence of the Tesseract.

On a whim, Coulson jerked the large SUV to the right and pulled into a Wendy's fast food drive thru. He caught Barton's questioning look out of the corner of his eye. Completely straight-faced, he said, "Do not belittle the seduction of a chocolate Frosty."

Clint could not keep the grin off his face. “Alright. Get me a chocolate frosty too and a large order of fries. Oh double that. Cap will love this. The usual strawberry Frosty for Nat, otherwise, she’ll pout all the way to the facility.”

That partially shook Natasha out of her pensive silence. “I will end you Barton, when you least expect it, and I will do it with the spoon from said Frosty.”

“Idle threats – ow!” Clint rubbed the back of his head where she’d smacked him. “Geeze, I’m not handing anything over to you now.”

“Gimme,” Natasha demanded, when Coulson passed over the bags of fries and shakes to Clint. She quirked a brow at the archer, and Clint narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Sir?” she said, looking to Coulson to settle this sibling-like argument.

All it took was “Barton” mumbled under Coulson’s breath, and Clint handed the cup and spoon over. Rogers stifled a chuckle.

“You probably haven’t experienced this yet, have you Rogers? Just wait until you try it to judge.” 

She ate a spoonful and relaxed back against the leather seat. This had become somewhat of a ritual between the Delta Team - a celebratory milkshake after a mission, whether it was successful or not. Just being alive was enough. Sometimes, milkshakes were delivered to the SHIELD med bay, Coulson’s doing, of course. It was silly and juvenile and ridiculously comforting. Natasha figured they were overdue for this particular habit. Celebrating that Coulson was with them again certainly merited a Frosty run, not to mention they were free from the Tesseract's influence at last.

Smiling, Cap held his cup in one hand and the French fry box in the other. This had been a rare treat for him when he was a child, usually saved for a birthday. It was a very fond memory he had of his mother taking him to the local soda fountain. The ones today didn’t taste as good as the hand dipped variety from his time, but it was a happy reminder just the same.

“Cap, you gotta do it like this,” Clint interrupted. The archer took the lid off his Frosty, grabbed a French fry, and dipped it into the milkshake. Then he popped it into his mouth with a look of bliss on his face. “Mmm, it’s the best.”

Steve shook his head and barely resisting rolling his eyes. “We dipped our fries in our shakes too, Barton. I’m from the past, not another planet.” 

“Just don’t ever eat anything Clint hands you from a Thai food stall.” Natasha shuddered.

“Roasted spider on a stick wasn’t half bad. I think it was the sauce; kind of fruity and spicy. I tried to get the recipe out of the old woman but she wouldn’t budge,” Clint thoughtfully added as he dunked another fry. “Man, she should have been recruited to teach classes at SHIELD for resisting questioning.”

Steve sunk lower in his seat and allowed the conversation to flow around him. His thoughts were thick with memories of sharing an occasion burger and fries with Bucky down at the corner shop. Steve loved milkshakes but Bucky wouldn’t let him indulge too much, something he believed about milk being bad for asthmatics. 

God, it felt suffocating with how much he missed Bucky.

~*~

The SHIELD facility at Flushing was underneath the Stark Expo. There was already an underground network of hallways, cafeterias, training facilities, maintenance bays, and bunks underneath the theme park for the actual purpose of keeping the Expo running. So it wasn't inconceivable to continue to build below what the public would see as a benign facility. It had been one of the first weapons storage facilities back when Howard Stark was still using it as an R&D hanger.

The park was closed to the public during the morning hours, so Coulson’s entry into the gated streets was met with little resistance. His key codes and scans still worked at the back maintenance entrance. He drove through the streets as if he'd been here a hundred times. The area was completely desolate of other agents, guards, or park workers. It was as if it had been cleared of all life forms. It made him twitchy.

Coulson spared a glance in his rearview mirror at Rogers. Cap had most likely spent a bit of time here at the old Expo back when Howard Stark had built it. It was just a subway ride from Brooklyn and would've been the hot spot back in the early 40s. Tony had torn down the majority of the facility's main structures and rebuilt them to modern specifications. Some aspects remained the same, small details like light posts, brick roads, Victorian era placards for street signs, nostalgic embellishments Cap might appreciate.

As they drove past the area that once contained the World of Tomorrow display, Steve was taken back to the first time he’d laid eyes on Howard Stark. At the time, the scrawny kid from Brooklyn had no idea the profound effect the charismatic inventor would have on his life. Steve felt drawn to the brilliant man from the first time they’d had the chance to meet face to face. How could anyone not be drawn in by that zest for life and dizzying intelligence? 

He had to wonder what all happened to change the man with the brilliant mind with the devil-may-care attitude into the bitter alcoholic that Tony called father. War changed them all he supposed, some more than others.

Coulson shifted uneasily in his seat and pulled the large SUV up to the garage at the back of the park. He keyed in another sequence of numbers and the metal doors rolled up slowly, leaving a dark gaping hole to enter, beckoning them down into the depths of SHIELD'S base.

"Keep your cool," Coulson reminded, his voice low. "This is as much of a test of me as it is of you. We are all reflecting upon each other today and will be judged as such. Understood?"

Steve looked warily out the tinted windows. He too thought it odd that a SHIELD facility would have such a lack of personnel manning the grounds. “Understood, sir.”

“Gotcha, boss.” Clint felt more and more uneasy the further they drove into the complex. He also didn’t miss the small tells from Coulson that his handler was on edge. Clint’s hand itched to hold the comforting curve of his bow. It felt like he was headed deep underground with Loki again - to scheme and create destruction and plan for battle. It was almost tangible, this deja vu of hiding out with the God of Chaos.

It didn't take long before they were well below ground, driving with headlights on and lamps overhead in the tunnels. Coulson knew which way to turn, putting his turn signal on each time, which earned him a snicker from Barton. His mouth twitched at the rich sound.

Jasper Sitwell was waiting for them in a large garage area. There were other SHIELD vehicles parked nearby. Vans, SUVs, and a couple of sedans were lined up facing outward, ready to deploy.

Coulson paused, his hand on the door handle, a breath shared between the occupants to gather their thoughts, focus their minds and start this quasi-mission.

He stepped out and removed his sunglasses, gauging Sitwell's mood instantly. The man initially looked truly pleased to see him the way an old friend would after much time and trauma passed between them. That faded quickly when the agent's gaze fell on Romanoff then Rogers. It then settled on Barton like a heavy fog. 

"Sitwell," was all he said, which garnered the attention he wanted. Coulson strode forward directly into the agent's personal space. He held his hand out which was accepted and gripped tightly.

Jasper grinned, a crack in the facade, the person behind the suit revealed. "You're becoming a bit of a legend among us Sevens, you know."

“I’ll collect my winnings soon,” Coulson said, smiling back. The level 7 agents kept bets on which field agents and teams would return from suicide missions. Phil had won a handful of money in his time, and the Battle of New York would pay out big. He would have to put some aside for something special with Barton later. It was nice to think like that now.

“How do you keep doing it?”

"My secrets are mine to keep," Coulson slid his hands in his trouser pockets and held his gaze without blinking. Sitwell did the same. "The place is empty."

"Your resurrection is still top clearance only."

Phil nodded at the legitimate excuse. Still, Jasper held his chin a tad too high. His hand was balled up his pocket – a sign of anxiety. "Is the Director here?"

"No," Sitwell lied. "He’s at a World Security Council meeting. You guys have caused quite a stir at Stark Tower."

Coulson nodded, a few head shakes too long. Sitwell sniffed uneasily and swallowed.

"Okay," Coulson finally said, learning all he needed to know from body language, position, and all of Jasper's tells: Fury was here, he was pissy, and Stark and the Tower's occupants were all under heavy surveillance. There was more to Sitwell's body language, but it could just be the unease around Barton. "We're just going to use the facilities to work some rust out, oh and, we’re going to reclaim Barton's gear."

Sitwell stepped aside amicably but there was tension in his posture. When the group had passed by, almost as an afterthought but not, he asked, "You get clearance from Fury for that?"

Clint stopped at that comment and turned around. He made as if to step towards Sitwell, his brows drawn down in a thunderous frown if it meant any resistance to getting his weapons. “I am getting my gear,” Clint challenged.

"Barton," Coulson said, so quietly that Sitwell could have imagined it, but it stayed the rogue agent. Instead, it was Coulson himself who advanced. He had a way of walking up on someone that forced them to consciously choose to hold their ground or back up, which meant submission.

Jasper’s weight shifted backward but he held his ground.

"I'm taking back the Winter Soldier," Coulson stated. "You know it, Fury knows it, and Steve Rogers knows it. I'm sure you don't mean to stand in our way. And since you were Barnes' handler longer than I was, I know you're eager to help us in any way to bring him home where he wants and deserves to be. Don’t stand in our way."

"He doesn't remember that this is home, Coulson. He's just choosing the side that appears to be the strongest." Sitwell glanced at Cap over Coulson's shoulder, uneasy to meet the soldier’s eyes. "You know you can't do it without SHIELD. I'm still Barnes' contact. And there’s something you don't know.”  
“What’s that,” Phil said, annoyed.

“He’s been put in stasis again."

Phil's brow knit together and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowing to allow his mind to begin to rework a contingency this new situation. This was not good. In fact, this was actually really bad. He swallowed and parted his jacket, resting his hands on his hips. “When?”

“Two days ago. They’re selling him to the highest bidder,” Jasper explained. He watched Natasha turn her face away. His eyes flicked down to Cap’s balled-up fists. 

“We’ll discuss this in your office,” Coulson stated, wishing to avoid causing his teammates further pain in the blunt truth of information being so casually shared.  
He turned to his team. “Go on inside, use the gym, get your gear," he said to Barton. 

"You're clearance is for the fitness level and administrative level 1," Jasper told the agents and Rogers. "Barton's gear is in locker 229 in the gym. Stay clear of the other floors. Understood"

Rogers waved a hand but didn't turn back around. He tried to get himself under control. The soldier didn’t want to cause any more trouble for Agent Coulson. But then again, he wasn’t really very good at following orders. 

“Come on, Nat,” Barton said, escorting the redhead towards the doorway. He knew it took everything she had not to grab Agent Sitwell by the throat and squeeze. They knew her background with the Winter Soldier, yet she was kept in the dark the entire time, even when Sitwell could’ve brought her in to help during his time as Barnes’ handler. 

She realized that there were likely good reasons to keep her blind to it all, but it did not stop her from feeling betrayed. 

Clint was right. Now was not the time to lose control. They had an objective to accomplish today and then a mission in a week. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clint asked, glancing sideways at his partner.

“No. I really want to hurt someone, so let’s just get your gear and go to the gym. I’ll take it out on the facility.”

“Hey, if it keeps me from being battered and bruised, I’m okay with that.”

~*~

She followed Clint into the locker room and stood nearby as the archer opened the locker. He breathed a huge sigh of relief. There was his bow, and beside it, his specialized quiver. They both looked well-used from the Battle, but no worse for wear, scuffed, nicked and even stained with some soot – maybe Chitauri blood and entrails - but intact. With an unsteady hand, the archer took out the bow. With a flick of his arm, the weapon extended into the powerful recurve. Clint ran his hand over its familiar curves and lines, caressing every inch of the customized upper limb down to the grip. He rested his finger on the arrow rest, feeling the slight groove.

Natasha smiled fondly. “Would you like to be alone with your bow? I can leave if you need a moment.”

“I missed her, you know?” Clint said, grinning. It felt like missing a limb. It was the first thing Clint had that truly meant anything to him. This custom recurve was worth far more than the cost to make it, which was staggering. What made it precious is that it had been given to him by Phil Coulson. His handler had seen the generic bows that SHIELD tried to pawn off on him. The compound bow he used in the New Mexico facility came to mind. Any moron could use a compound bow effectively. Using a recurve like Clint did was truly an art form. So Coulson commissioned this beauty and presented it to Clint right before the Asgardian Destroyer attacked Puente Antiguo.

His other gear was there in locker too: his archery gloves, comfortably worn in and butter soft, his arm guard, and even his custom purple-lensed shooting glasses. Finally, hanging in the back, was his body armor, cleaned and repaired. He’d not seen the reinforced leather since the Invasion.

“If you are done having your emotional reconnection with your gear, let's hit the mats. I need to kick some serious ass, and yes, you are elected to take the brunt of it. I bet you’ve gotten soft, Barton.” Natasha opened a few lockers until she found a pair of black workout pants and a grey tank top. Without concern, she stripped down and put on the clothes over her under garments.

“Don’t ever say I’ve gone soft,” Clint muttered, fearing that she was right. He reluctantly laid his bow aside and changed into some ratty looking black sweatpants and a navy sweatshirt with the arms and collar torn out. Not willing to leave his gear behind, Clint scooped up his bow and quiver then followed Nat into the gym.

He laid the items aside and began to stretch, fluidly raising his arms above his head and effortlessly performing a shotokan kata. Nat joined him and their movements perfectly mirrored each other.

Then with one leg sweep from Natasha, that Clint easily avoided, the game was on.

Twenty pain filled, gasping, sweating and cursing minutes later, Clint was lying on his left side on the mat with Natasha’s thighs wrapped around his neck. His fingers scored the smooth material of her pants but she did not let up on the pressure.

Clint did give as good as he got, though. Nat sported a dark red mark on her jaw courtesy of Clint’s elbow and he’d managed a kick to her midsection that left her breathless for a moment. Sparring was serious business to his partner. She didn’t hold back at all. This was a test. Natasha was carefully gauging Clint’s condition and reflexes, and she was afraid Fury had kept him out of commission too long.

~*~

Steve found the gym and walked inside, stopped dead at the sight before him. Natasha seemed to be in the process of strangling Agent Barton with her thighs. He raised his eyebrows, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall to observe.

“Give up yet, Clint?” Natasha asked calmly as if she was mentioning the weather.

“Fuck you, Nat.” Clint tried to throw her off but she just gripped tighter. "Let go!"

“Nope, sorry. That option is off the table. Although, maybe if you beg. But then Coulson might not like that. He seems to be the possessive type. So come on. Say, ‘Loki is a dick’ and I’ll let you go.”

Despite being strangled, Clint managed a laugh, but his competitive streak wouldn’t let him give in. “No. Not gonna say it. Although, I’ve seen him naked,” he sputtered, trying to pry her thighs apart. “He has a BIG dick, I’ll give him that much. You’d enjoy it.”

Natasha audibly gasped. She was torn between intrigued and scandalized. 

It was all Hawkeye needed to gain the upper hand. His whole body arched upwards and threw her forward. He grabbed Natasha's hips and flipped the Widow twice, rolling her onto her stomach, slamming her to the mat with a startled 'oomph'. 

Clint sat on her back and held the assassin’s arms behind her back.

Now, she was mortified.

“How about you say “Clint’s got a big dick” or I’ll tell Coulson what really happened to his car,” he said with a smirk.

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Just try me.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes and thrust her head backwards, hitting Clint square on the nose. Abruptly, she was free and on her feet. Clint was butt down on the mat grasping his aching nose. The widow lashed out and kicked Clint in the chest knocking him onto his back. She followed him down and pinned the archer again.

With the wind knocked out of him, bleeding from his nose, and seeing stars again, Clint gasped like a landed fish. 

“Fuck you,” he said, wheezing. “Uncle… I give… I yield… whatever. Just stop hurting me, all three of you.”

Natasha abruptly let go, fearing he really might be that dizzy, and gracefully stood up. She extended her hand to her partner and smiled. “Come on you big baby. I’ll even clean you up if you want me to.” 

When he took her proffered hand, he stood and pulled her to him, flinging an arm around her shoulder. “Am I ever going to be able to beat you?” 

“Not even on your best day,” she admitted, watching him blot at his nose with the hem of his shirt. “But seriously, Clint. You were slow and sloppy. You’re going to get yourself killed out there. I don’t think I could stand that. You’re one of the few things I have left that I give a damn about,” Natasha quietly admitted.

He turned to face her and noted the pained and somewhat scared expression on her face. Clint placed his hands on her shoulders and rested his forehead against hers. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere. Yeah, I might have gotten a little out of shape since I was suspended, but we can fix that right? I’m indestructible, remember?” 

Clint pulled her into a hug. She clung to him tightly with her hands fisted in the back of his shirt. “No one is indestructible.”

“Not even Cap,” he said, nodding towards the silent observer. 

“No, not even him.” She took a deep breath and pulled away. “But I’ll hold you to that, Barton. No dying on me.”

Clint let her go when she pulled away, needing to put distance between the heightened emotional connection they’d shared. “Gotcha, no dying. Hey, why don’t you try to make Cap bleed while I go and get reacquainted with Artemis."

“I still can’t believe you named your bow after the Greek goddess of the hunt.”

He rolled his eyes and patted Rogers on the shoulder on his way out. “Just watch out for her knees and elbows. She has a killer crotch shot.”

Steve’s brows raised at Clint’s comment. It was just a sparring match. Natasha wouldn’t really rack him in balls, would she? Steve sighed as Nat crooked her finger at him, beckoning him to the mats. 

Steve went to his fate with his head held high vowing to protect his ‘boys’ at all costs.

~*~

The road trip into the facility had kept Loki on edge. Countless times, he’d met his brother’s gaze and held it, urgently conveying his intention to strike first and strike hard to escape this imposed prison. Each time, Thor had stayed him with a slight shake of his head or a narrowing his eyes. The last attempt at escape earned him a verbal warning: “Brother, no.”

The nurse didn’t seem eager to free himself either, but he clearly wasn’t happy about being held captive. Loki had raised a brow at him in question of his alliance, but Lieutenant Jordan had shaken his head in the negative as well and then looked to Thor for reassurance.

So be it, Loki thought. They could both rot in hell, but he was not going to do so. He decided to conserve his strength for the time being and wait for the right time to flee. He’d let Thor and the boy care for themselves, since they obviously didn’t care about him.

The vehicle had taken them underground. It was similar enough to the PEGASUS research facility before its implosion, only on a much smaller and decrepit scale. The brick walls looked near ruin to Loki, which would make for an easier break.

Fury didn’t appear vulnerable. He had a just over a dozen agents with him, all heavily armed. The director seemed to believe that he had the Asgardian's cooperation, but could he really be that stupid?

Loki memorized every turn, doorway, and option as they were lead into a large circular room deep underground. There were a few tables and chairs with low but harsh lighting. Stacks of files with specific papers pulled out were strewn across the desks.

“No cage this time?” Loki mocked.

Fury smirked. “I’m counting on your brother to keep you in line.”

“Not likely,” Loki muttered.

“We have not threatened,” Thor stated. “So why have you demanded our presence here in such an aggressive manner?”

“Sit down, soldier,” Fury said to Lieutenant Jordan. “You’re going to be my witness in this when Stark asks you what really happened. So pay attention.”

Bobby did as he was told. The air was heavy and thick and he could not hide the slight tremble in his hands. This was wartime tension. The wrong word, the wrong gesture, and bullets would fly.

He looked up at the black ops agents who stood on the catwalk above them. Their weapons were powered up, a bright orange glow peeking out between slits in the large caliber barrel, like gills of a predatory shark. There was no way to escape them, should this go up in smoke. It would be as easy as shooting fish in a barrel, and he was stuck in the barrel. Strategically, it was a very wise move on Fury’s part. Bobby should've expected nothing less from the SHIELD director.

“Like I said, I came here to talk,” Fury explained to Thor. “I appreciate you coming quietly.”

“You could’ve been more diplomatic in your request,” Loki stated plainly. He wandered the room casually, looking up at the armed agents above him as if they were frescos in a museum. It belied his tense posture. “Your planet has much to learn about the delicacy of negotiation.”

“Funny you bring that up,” Fury said, garnering Loki’s attention. “I thought we already negotiated to keep you off our planet. So, tell me why you are here again?”

“I already explained that to you,” Thor said. “We came here to redeem my brother’s honor and make amends for your losses.”

“Uh huh. And just how are you going to do that? What are you going to give me that could possibly equal the value of the lives you took?”

“I can offer you knowledge,” Loki instantly suggested, arms held open wide as if he was being very kind and straightforward. “Knowledge of your enemy. I’d say that is a substantial offer. You’ll receive it from no other.”

“You are the enemy.”

“If that is what you believe, you are sorely mistaken,” Loki said cynically. 

“You sure played the part.”

Loki lowered his chin and raised irreverent eyes to Fury. “I was merely the messenger.”

“Brother,” Thor started, but Loki raised his finger to silence him.

“A beast of a god, far more cruel and hasty than I, has set his sights on your planet,” Loki divulged. “What you saw was merely a test of the waters. Certainly, you surprised his Chitauri army with your nuclear weaponry. They were not expecting such mass destruction. But you see, that has only endeared yourself to him more. What he craves is death, and you have shown him that Earth can give him exactly what he wants.” 

“Well fuck,” Bobby blurted out, pale as a ghost, wiping sweaty hands on his trousers.

“Shut up, kid.” Fury walked over to a table and poured himself a glass of water. He drank half of it before turning back around. “You told us he wanted the Tesseract.”

“Of course he did,” Loki said incredulously. “Who doesn’t want unlimited power? With it, he could jump from realm to realm, wreaking havoc using the weaponry the Tesseract creates as the tip of his sword. Isn’t that what you used it for? You mass produced these Hydra weapons with Tesseract technology. You are no different from him, you just haven’t the ambition or knowledge of the universe he does.”

Fury didn’t verbally rise to the bait, but they all knew Loki won that round. “So, you’re just going to offer up knowledge of how to beat our new enemy out of the goodness of your heart?”

Loki grinned then, a jester’s face, his hands over his heart. “Redemption is my middle name,” he patronized.

Fury rolled his one eye. “You really think we’re going to allow you anywhere near advanced weaponry?”

“You have allowed it right now, have you not?”

Fury’s eye narrowed as Loki began to walk towards him. This was the killer Fury was familiar with.

“I can feel the thrum of the Mind-Gem scepter even now. You have it here in the bowels of this facility."

Thor’s chair screeched loudly as he vaulted to his feet. “Brother?”

“You are a fool for keeping it here,” Loki said in a rush of words, voice lowering with dangerous edges to it. “The knowledge you seek is beyond your comprehension. You are far better off producing nuclear warheads utilizing Stark’s genius with technology to deliver your bombs and ordinance.”

“So that’s your plan – you, Stark, and nuclear warheads?”

“Heed my words, Fury. I can help protect your planet. Ignore me, and you will fall to ruin, all of you, all of your precious people will perish because of your pride.” Loki slammed his fist down on the table. The corner leg collapsed, splintering the thick wood.

Every Destroyer weapon with its red laser sight focused on Loki’s torso and head. 

“Hold,” Fury ordered the agents, raising his hand to stop them from firing. “Loki, you need to calm the fuck down.”

He allowed himself a short burst of laughter and avoided Thor’s advance. In a more sane presentation, he tried again: “I am offering to work with Stark to aid in your fight to survive the onslaught of your enemy, Thanos, who is coming to destroy your planet in a bloodbath beyond your comprehension. That is my offer, Fury. That is all there is to speak of on the matter. Take it or die.”

“We’ll take it,” Bobby said immediately. “We’ll take it, right, sir? I mean, shit.”

Fury smacked the young soldier in the back of the head. “I’ll think about it.”

Bobby lowered his face to his hands.

“I have a demand to add to this.”

Thor’s head tilted dubiously. “What is it?”

“You keep coming to my planet… I think it’s time we go to yours.”

Loki laughed. The rich sound reverberated against the concrete walls. “A Midgardian on Asgard?”

Even Thor sighed heavily. “This is not something I can allow.”

“Really? Just like that, you jeopardize all our negotiations without talking to your father?”

Loki lost all mirth at the mention of Odin. “Thor’s answer was much more gracious than Odin’s. He would laugh in your face.”

“Like you just did?” Fury pointed out.

“Fury is right,” Thor said to Loki. “I cannot make such a decision on my own.”

“What? You cannot go back right now,” Loki stated, confused.

“No, not now. Not until we make amends here,” Thor said. He shared a look with his brother that asked for trust. “After you and Stark fortify earth, then I will return to Asgard and explain that Fury wishes an audience with the Allfather.”

Loki wanted to laugh at the ludicrous thought of it, but it would’ve ruined Thor’s negotiation. And Thor was actually doing a good job of it.

“Those are our terms.”

Fury opened his mouth to speak but his earpiece rang. He paused long enough to answer. Sitwell was on the other end and said things were moving along a tad quicker than Fury expected from the Delta Team. There was trouble from Coulson wanting to explore inaccessible areas. He was threatening to make a call to a big green ally if Sitwell didn’t allow him access to the negotiation room immediately. 

Fury concluded the call and massaged his aching temples. “Complete pain in the ass, the Avengers Initiative. Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking.”

In a weak concession, Bobby handed him the half-drank glass of water. “Well, the Initiative saved our planet once, sir. Maybe you could go out on a limb once more and end up saving it again?”

Fury eyed the young nurse. “Is this why Stark keeps you around?”

“No, sir” Bobby replied. “It's because I make pancakes with ears.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: This story is not IM3 compliant, although we did pick and choose certain elements from the movie.

Tony wove his way through the concrete canyons of New York, flying over, between, and through any obstacle in his path. He hoped the speed and the rush of being in the suit would clear his head of the distrust his team had in his choices.

He knew Loki was incredibly dangerous. He also knew he had basically thrown all his credibility with SHIELD out the window by housing the Asgardian. But he really wanted to go with his gut instinct this time. 

It just felt right.

While Loki might never be good, Tony hoped he could be better than he was now. To fight for the right reasons, and not just lash out or create chaos when bent to another’s will, could be a powerful feeling.

Tony knew this “experimentation” with Loki’s personality could drive Bruce away. That was something he desperately did not want to happen. Tony hated the thought of the doctor being all alone. Bruce had put his trust in Tony, and the billionaire felt he’d just done his best to fuck it all up.

He had to wonder where the physicist was now and if he was coming back.

Tony hissed as he almost overshot a tight corner. The suit, while amazing, really did rely on Jarvis handling a lot of the routine functions. He missed the sarcastic AI. J was his constant companion, so it was disconcerting not to have the familiar voice in his ear.

But there was not one moment of his current life that was not being scrutinized by someone, and that’s why Tony valued this singular chance to be alone. 

Correcting his trajectory should have been easy. It was something Tony had done a thousand times before. It would’ve been nothing more than a reflexive movement, that is, if the turbines on his left boot jet didn’t unexpectedly flicker and die. 

The Iron Man armor veered wildly. Tony cursed and tried to get the turbines to re-engage, bending in half to try to use his repulsor on his left hand to stabilize his flight path. 

In seconds, unable to alter his current course, Iron Man slammed into the corner of a building. He regretted his decision to lock Jarvis out when he careened into another concrete wall and then hit a rooftop hard. 

Skidding ungainly across the tarred and graveled surface, he came to a stop in a tangled heap beside a large air conditioning unit.

Tony waited for his head to stop ringing before slowly sitting up. He raised his faceplate and reminded himself that this is what field tests were for. 

He leaned back against the humming air conditioning unit and sniffed. His nose had collided with the face plate rather sharply and it slowly dribbled blood.

“So you meant to do that right?”

The billionaire was not the least bit surprised when War Machine landed efficiently beside him. Tony frowned as Rhodey’s faceplate slid up.

“I wondered if I was gonna have to pull your ass out of the side of the State Farm building when I saw your boot jet burn out.”

Tony gave his friend the standard one fingered salute.

“Classy. So, what’s on tap for the encore?” Rhodes extended his armored hand to help pull Tony to his feet.

Tony ignored the gesture and wiped at his nose again.

Rhodes sighed. “Should I call for an ambulance or was your pride the only thing truly damaged in your tantrum?”

“I left for a reason, Rhodes. Can’t I spend one fucking hour by myself?” Tony shot back. “Don’t you have some military boots to lick somewhere?”

“Wound and retreat, hurt them before they can hurt you. I haven’t fallen for that tactic for years,” James muttered. He was rapidly losing patience. “And what are you, twelve? Get your shit together, man. Go back and fix this!”

“How?”

“You don’t want Banner to leave? Then tell him. You want us to give Loki a chance? Then tell us why we should. Running away is something you’ve been doing your entire life. Has it worked out well for you yet? I’ve seen you defend a robot with more conviction than this. What’s going on with you, man?” 

This time, Tony accepted Rhodey’s gesture and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “I don’t know. I… I feel so sure about this. Why doesn’t anyone trust me on it?”

Rhodey clapped Tony on the back. “I think that’s rhetorical, since you’ve heard all the reasons already. Look, you’re the genius, you’ll figure out what to do. You can be persuasive when you want to.”

“Yeah, thanks for the clear-cut advice,” Tony replied wryly as he smeared more blood across his face. 

“Let’s talk about this more back home, okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony looked around, knowing there were cameras everywhere. The public didn’t need to see his meltdown. He closed the armor and the HUD flickered to life.

Tony needed his AI to run a suit diagnostic before flight to see if there was damage. So with a sigh, he rescinded manual control. Jarvis would not be happy he’d been locked out. 

“J? Run a diagnostic and check the gyro-stabilizers on the left boot turbine assembly.”

“Would you like me to do that now, sir, or am I interfering with your alone time?”

“Yeah, I’m an asshole. Happy? Just run it. I need to get out of here.” Tony shook his head tiredly.

“Indubitably charmed. Running scan now.”

In a few seconds, Jarvis found the source of the malfunction. “Sir, the thermocouple on the turbines seems to have shorted out. I am rerouting power now.”

“Thanks, J. We’ll run a full diagnostic back at the Tower.” Tony lifted his foot and tested the jet. It worked. 

“Power restored at 18% of capacity. I suggest you do not break any speed records returning to the workshop,” Jarvis added.

“Got it. No fancy maneuvers.”

“All set?” Rhodes asked, eyeing the news helicopter headed their way. 

“Yup, are you heading in with me?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. I’ve got orders to shadow you for a while. The president thinks you need a babysitter, despite the fact I told him you’re already potty trained.”

Tony found himself smiling despite his current mood. James winked at him before closing his face plate. 

They were about to leave when Jarvis interrupted. “Sir, the security firm that handles the mansion and grounds has been trying to contact you. It appears there has been a security breach.”

“Uh, excuse me?”

“From what I have been able to ascertain, the intruders were specialized SHIELD agents. They have taken Loki, Thor, and Lieutenant Jordan into their custody.”

“How fucking dare Fury! That asshole!”

“Shit,” James mumbled, viewing footage Jarvis had transmitted to their HUDs. 

“Fine,” Tony snarled. “He wants to play it that way, I’m more than game to come and get what’s mine.”

“God damn it, Tony. Wait!” Rhodey yelled as the red and gold suit shot into the sky above him. 

~*~

Tony pushed the limits of the suit, heading for the mansion.

Fury, yet again, told him one thing and did another. His SHIELD thugs were just waiting for the chance to swoop in and apprehend Loki. Since he didn't hear any sirens, Tony assumed that Thor went quietly. No telling what Fury threatened him with.

It took moments for the armor to reach the manor. Tony was surprised to see it mostly intact. The front gates were completely undisturbed, which was a blessing due to the crowd milling around outside. There were a few police cars keeping the curious at bay. Tony sighed when they all pointed and looked up at his arrival. He also knew War Machine was right behind. The gawkers got double their money’s worth.

“Sir, Ms Potts is calling,” Jarvis announced. “She is asking, and I quote, “What the hell have you done now, Tony?” What would you like me to tell her?”

“Fuck! Tell her I have it handled. I’ll call her back when I can,” Tony replied as he touched down near the back door. “Oh, and Rhodey? If you decided to gossip with Pep, I’ll lock you inside that damned suit.” 

“To hell if I’m going to be the one to drop the Loki bomb on her,” James said, touching down next Tony. 

They walked to the front door. It had obviously been kicked in and then sloppily re-secured. SHIELD must have had them under pretty close surveillance because if they’d tried this with Bruce in residence, it would have gotten very messy.

The grounds were clear when Tony ran a scan of the area. It appeared that SHIELD did what they came to do and left. Despite that, Tony kept the armor on and entered the house alone. The more he saw, the more he got pissed.

The mansion was not Tony’s favorite place, but SHIELD violated what was his. They took someone he cared about. The thought of Loki in their custody made him sick. The trickster was dangerously unstable, and this little stunt of Fury’s might just be the catalyst to push Loki over the edge... again.

Loki was starting to trust Tony, might even feel something towards him. Now, the billionaire could feel it slipping between his grasping fingers. Tony’s only reassurance was that Thor would not let anyone hurt his brother. That would cause a huge diplomatic incident with massive collateral damage. Then, it was likely that Thor would simply take Loki and flee far beyond where any human could touch them.

Tony truly didn’t want Loki to leave. He thrilled the billionaire like no one else had in a very long while. What he had with Pepper had been comfortable and sweet, a much needed shelter from his hectic and self destructive life. But what Tony had with Loki was dangerous, reckless, and full of heart pounding passion. Loki intrigued Tony with his magic and knowledge of other worlds, seduced him with his lean and powerful body, and mocked Tony when he became too full of himself.

Loki was like a drug, and he couldn’t get enough.

Underlying all that lust was a genuine affection for the trickster, the feeling of cleaving to a kindred spirit through similar life experiences. They understood each others demons. Who else could understand what Tony had been through in the desert with the Ten Rings or with Obadiah’s betrayal?

Now Loki was gone. Tony would be damned if he’d let him go without a fight.

He followed the trail of destruction to the library. He passed several broken windows, his boots crunching over the shards of glass. Finally, he entered what used to be his favorite room in this mausoleum.

Tony was glad Rhodey was keeping his distance. Jarvis informed him that War Machine was watching the crowd outside and maintaining a safe perimeter. More likely, Rhodes was letting Tony have the time he needed to process and cool off. They knew each other well, and it was a great comfort.

Despite the mansion getting infiltrated by a quasi military organization, there was far less destruction than Tony would have thought. A small overturned side table, books toppled to the floor, a cup of tea long gone cold spilling onto the Persian rug. 

A few red droplets caught Tony’s eye. Blood. 

It seemed like not everyone came out of the experience unscathed. Tony had to wonder who was injured. There was not enough to indicate a major wound but it was still disconcerting. Was Fury expecting to use force with extreme prejudice? If so, Tony hoped it was one of the SHIELD goons that did the bleeding.

What the fuck was Tony supposed to do now? He knew better than to go at the organization with repulsors blazing. He would have to be subtle. He had to find out Fury’s plans. To do that, he needed Jarvis.

“J, get someone over here to board up the windows and secure the house. Send a Stark security team to patrol the grounds. No fucking around. I’m heading back to the Tower now. You and I have some work to do.” 

“Very well, sir. Should I inform the others of your intentions?” Jarvis asked.

“Hell no. I have no idea who Fury has in his pocket. No one is happy that Loki is here. Shit. I don’t even know who to trust anymore, aside from Rhodey. Listen, I want you to initiate program ‘shockwave rider’. I want my little worm to crawl around SHIELD’S network to find, tag, and grab anything relating to Loki.”

“I will do as you ask, sir, but please reconsider informing the others.”

“I’ll think about it. Heading in now.” Tony sighed and walked back out of the house.

“Rhodey? I’m going back to the Tower. There’s fuck all I can do here, and I need to repair my boot jet.” 

“What are you really going to do about this? It’s not in your nature to let this go without retaliation.” 

“I have no clue what you mean. I’m going back to my workshop. Follow or not, but I want to be left alone.” Tony lifted off into the sky.

Rhodey swore out loud before he took off after his best friend. He knew that if Tony didn’t want someone in his workshop, short of a nuclear blast, no one was getting into his hallowed sanctum. 

 

~*~ 

Tony landed on the platform outside his workshop. The armor was removed as he walked through the disassembly unit. The pieces would be shunted to his workspace to be run through a full diagnostic. 

He rubbed his forehead and poured himself a glass of whiskey. Feeling antsy, Tony paced the floor waiting for a result to his little incursion into SHIELD’S databases. He scratched idly at the dried blood on his face and ignored his painful nose.

“Sir?” Jarvis began.

“Tell me you’ve found something.” Tony drained his glass and contemplated getting another.

“I’m sorry. Any data I am finding is several months old. It appears that Director Fury is keeping all intel on Loki’s whereabouts out of the network.”

“Shit!” Tony hurled his glass against the windows. The fine cut crystal shattered and ran down the surface. 

“Okay. Okay...” Tony ran his hands through his hair and tugged the longish strands.

“Tap into all the CCTV cams anywhere near the estate. I want to know where Fury’s vehicles ended up after their little visit. Track any movement by any agent coming and going from their Manhattan HQ. I doubt Fury would make the same mistake of letting Loki aboard the carrier. They no doubt have them stashed in a safe house or in another facility. Check for any other SHIELD owned properties in a 200 mile radius. And don’t get caught.” 

“I will do as you request. Despite what Director Fury intimated earlier about your hacking prowess, the worm you created will leave no traces. Although, getting through that many layers of security encryptions will take some time. I will inform you when I have the information you require. In the mean time, perhaps you could rest?” Jarvis suggested.

“No. Too… jumpy.” Tony needed to find an outlet for all his manic energy while his A.I. worked its magic, so he set about giving the malfunctioning suit a complete overhaul. He ignored several calls from Rhodey, one from Pepper, and one from Coulson. He so did not need a lecture right now. In fact, Tony was surprised that no one was beating on his workshop door.

“Jarvis? Locations of Rogers, Coulson, Hawkeye, and Widow,” Tony asked.

“Sir, a SHIELD issue SUV was dropped off in your private parking garage this morning. Agents Coulson, Barton, Romanoff and Captain Rogers left the premises minutes later and have not returned.” Jarvis explained.

Tony stopped and scowled. The timing of their departure was too coincidental. “Did you catch where they were going?”

“I believe it was mentioned that they were heading to retrieve some equipment of Agent Barton’s but I cannot say for certain.”

“I’ve heard enough, J. Not another word about them. Just do the search parameters I laid out,” Tony felt the rising sting of betrayal. He felt ill. It could be that they were all in on removing Loki. There would probably be some slick explanation that it was for Tony’s own good, that he had been compromised somehow, that Loki had done some mind mumbo jumbo on him…

Well fuck that! Fuck them all, Tony thought.

He was not surprised, really, that he was alone again. It was nothing new. 

Soon, Tony was thoroughly enmeshed in the guts of the Mark XI. Dummy handed Tony the tools he asked for and Butterfingers cleared away the broken glass and tidied the workshop. Tony paused every once in awhile to rub his aching head or to flex his tingling fingers, symptoms he’d become so familiar with that he chose to disregard them.

It could have been minutes or hours later that Tony, so focused on the minute circuitry of the particle beam emission unit, was not expecting the loud crash from directly behind him. The cutting tool in his hand slipped, slicing his palm. He dropped it then flung himself to the floor, seeking something to hide behind.

Tony crawled backward until he hit a wall. He scooted under a work table and tried to stop the surge of pure panic that clawed its way through his chest. Tony’s heart was pounding. There was a loud roaring in his ears, and no matter how much he gasped for breath, he could not get any air. His hands pulled desperately at the neck of his shirt.

“Sir, I have detected a highly elevated heart rate and suppressed respirations. You have to calm down lest you cause yourself harm. Sir? Sir? You are going to render yourself unconscious at this rate.”

“C... Can’t… keep ‘em away. They’re in the tower. Coming for me. L... Lock down the room. Need to be safe. We’re not safe anywhere.” 

Tony wheezed as he backed further under the table. His head throbbed and spots danced in front of his eyes.

Jarvis complied, thinking it might help to calm his creator. Heavy duty biometric locks sealed the doors. Missile blast shielding dropped over the windows. The room was plunged into darkness save the artificial lighting of the work shop. 

Tony’s bots wheeled over to the table he was under and chirped anxiously. Dummy went so far as to try to wedge himself under the work surface with his creator. His sensor array servo claw lightly patted Tony’s bowed head.

“I... I’m okay. Just don’t let ‘em in. I’ll be okay. Just need to breathe.” Tony drew his legs up and rested his forehead on his knees. He was dizzy and still could not take a deep breath. His fingers dug into the fabric of his jeans and the small prickles of pain from his nails oddly reassuring. 

But Tony really wasn’t okay, and he knew it. The panic attack didn’t let up that much and he kept jumping at any stray noise. He was wedged under the table like a child hiding beneath the covers after a nightmare, fumbling for anything he could use as a weapon. 

Tony was warned that the poison might manifest this way but he was too out of his head to realize. It was magnifying his fears and anxiety, and they took the form of brutal Chitauri soldiers commanded by a gold and green ruthless God of Chaos.

~*~

Bruce lost track of time while walking along Manhattan’s streets.

He remembered closing the gate to Stark’s mansion, seeing the people milling about. Some took pictures of the iconic estate in the middle of New York City. They’d glanced at him, perhaps put two and two together, but he knew that was probably just hubris talking.

First, he’d traded his watch for a $10 hoodie and cheap baseball cap, which he pulled down low on his forehead. It was easy enough to blend in with the city’s pedestrians, just stuff his hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt material and walk for miles. 

He’d done this before - said he was finished with Stark – but this time, it really wasn’t about Tony and his choices. This time, it was about Bruce passing judgment and then getting back as good as he gave. 

It hurt. 

He knew he owed Tony an apology, for just about everything. He absolutely didn’t agree with the man’s relationship choices, but what could he do and who was he to judge, really? Bruce had stated his opinion and then Tony had shared his. The cards were on the table. 

It was up to Bruce to choose to either stay and accept it or leave. 

He could return to his solitude, but Tony had not so eloquently pointed out how very lonely Bruce still was, even in the company of colleagues. 

He missed Betty, missed the intimacy he had with her. She could set him ablaze with the gentlest of touches. He remembered it like it was another life. To know he’d never have that again felt like punishment for a sin.

It was plain, ugly jealousy. Tony was experiencing some semblance of that powerful emotional spectrum and with none other than earth’s most infamous war criminal. Tony – who could fuck up daily and get pardoned for it every time - but not Bruce. Never Bruce. 

But the engineer hadn’t taken the first swing. Bruce had been the aggressor. He was wrong, and he knew it.

If he apologized and was asked to stay, he could utilize the state of the art laboratory for various projects, but he’d have to accept that Loki was going to be the one to supply Tony with a cure for his sickness. If he left, he’d have to trust Loki to his word to save Tony’s life, because it truly was a life or death illness. He’d not even had an opportunity to show Tony the data he’d compiled on the few tests he’d been able to run on the poison. He was surprised Tony’s body wasn’t already wasting away, but wasn’t that now Loki’s concern?

Someone in Bruce’s mind laughed. They both knew he wouldn’t be able to abandon Tony. 

He just wasn’t ready to acknowledge that truth yet.

Bruce found himself at Stark Tower, looking up at the tall skyscraper. The “A” was the only letter left over from the old Stark logo after the Battle. The public called it fate, a larger than life allusion to the testament of the mighty ‘Avengers’ who saved the world. 

To Bruce, it seemed like a mark of Cain.

After passing through security, Bruce took the stairs, using the exercise to try to clear the fog from his mind. He felt lost, still not knowing if he should stay or go. Was it always this difficult to have friends? He wondered if Cap had these same issues, trying to fit in, trying to make his way in this crazy world of aliens and genius playboys gone wild.

He reached the highest floor he could access with the stairs and pushed the door open to the hallway, heading for the elevators at the far end to go up to his room.

“Good morning, Dr. Banner.”

“Jarvis.”

“I wondered if you might have some time to speak with sir.” 

“Uh, is this your request or his?” Bruce said, stepping into the elevator.

“Mine.”

Bruce’s brow rose. “Hmm. How about later, Jarvis? I need some time alone,” he explained awkwardly.

“Of course,” the AI replied respectfully. 

Bruce found his room down the hallway and closed the door, locking it behind him to keep out any nosy SHIELD agents who might think it funny to poke at the sleeping dragon, so to speak. He figured they were all down in the gym trying to best Cap. He had a fleeting thought about Coulson’s health and that he really should check on the man, but the mock-up serum was probably working wonders in his body, so what good could Bruce do really? It would only depress him more to see the serum working in Coulson’s favor the way it could have worked for him. Just another painful reminder of the bad choices he’d made in his life.

He walked to the closet and opened it, stared at the small selection of clothing carefully dry cleaned and pressed, laundered by one of Stark’s services. In the bottom of the wardrobe was his duffle bag. It was flat and empty, but he knew he could have it packed full in less than 4 minutes. It was a discouraging thought.

Bruce sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his short hair. He looked out the window at the buildings nearby and felt exhausted by the prospect of facing the rest of the day and making life-changing decisions. Allowing himself to lay back against the pillows, he shut his eyes, ignoring the mild sense of panic in the pit of his stomach.

~*~*~

“Dr. Banner, you must wake up.”

“What?” Bruce sat up with a start, Jarvis’ voice echoing through his room, or maybe it was just in his head. He blinked and looked at his clock. It was just after noontime.

“Sir needs your assistance right now in the shop,” Jarvis demanded. The AI actually sounded distressed.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce swung his legs over the side of the bed and headed for the door.

“Sir is having a panic attack. He has unknowingly caused harm to himself. This is, by far, the worst he has been.”

“Shit.” Bruce’s mind raced through several scenarios including breathing techniques, proper language to talk someone down, and medication options. “So this has happened before?”

“Yes, many times.”

Bruce nearly ran into James Rhodes as they both entered the common room from different hallways and ran towards the elevator. “Why hasn’t anyone said anything about this? Is he on medication or seeing a doctor?”

“This is Tony you’re talking about,” Rhodes said acerbically. “What do you think you could’ve done that Pepper and I haven’t tried already?”

“Shit. How long has this been going on?”

“How long do you think,” James prompted, giving Bruce a sour look. “Nothing’s been the same since New York.”

“Jesus,” Bruce said, unable to properly voice his heartfelt concern. They reached the shop, but it looked like a fortress had been erected in its stead. Steel walls had been rolled down over the glass and the entryway was shuttered from them. It looked impenetrable. “What the hell is this?”

“Tony’s answer to shutting out the demons in his mind. Whatever happened when he went through that portal really fucked him up good,” Rhodes explained. He used the keypad to punch in a combination of codes. “Jarvis, override the lock down and let me inside.”

“Override accepted.”

Bruce entered the shop on the heels of the colonel. For a moment, he thought there must have been a mistake. He couldn’t see Tony anywhere in the high tech shop. Holograms of the suit’s blueprints hung in the air like some sci-fi movie. Various soldering tools and circuit boards littered the surfaces of the worktables. There were several coffee cups half-full here and there. Tablets and monitors showed diagnostics running in the background, colorful graphs and flowcharts that, no doubt, made sense to the genius behind their programming.

James ran towards an area where Tony’s robots were congregating. They were making abnormal chirps and sounds, whirling in place in obvious distress. The colonel crouched down near a workbench and spoke softly before turning towards Bruce, his expression distraught. “Dr. Banner, over here.”

Bruce moved slowly, the way one would approach a frightened animal. As he got closer, he could hear the rapid and sharp intake of breath and the chattering of teeth.

He found Tony hiding in a corner underneath a table, covered in sweat, body trembling, and eyes wide and wild. There was blood on his hand, dripping down his wrist and forearm, blending with what looked like grease from whatever he was working on. The wound didn't seem life-threatening and would likely need stitches to close based on the amount of bleeding, but nothing could be done physically until Tony's state of panic had been addressed and treated. 

Even at the end of the battle with the Chitauri, Tony had never looked so frightened and utterly lost.

“He’s going to hyperventilate,” Bruce stated. He briefly wondered if that would be the best course of action, to just allow Tony to pass out into the bliss that unconsciousness would provide. Because to see the brilliant Tony Stark like this was heartbreaking, but Bruce couldn’t let his mind slide into an alarmed role now. Tony needed any expertise he could give as a physician.

“Come on, Tony. You gotta calm down,” Rhodes was saying, reaching towards the frightened man. 

“Wait, don’t touch him,” Bruce said, trying to warn James to give Tony the space he needed. Grabbing at him would only worsen the situation and make him feel more trapped. “Jarvis, can you get the bots to back off please?”

“Yes,” the AI said, giving some unspoken command to the robots that made them roll back to their docks obediently.

Bruce was now able to crouch down, still giving Tony ample space. “Jarvis, what triggered this?”

“There was no external cause that I detected. I believe this is a result of Sir’s inner thoughts.”

Great, Bruce thought. If Tony was responding to some internal stimuli, no telling what was going on.

"Maybe what happened this morning prompted this," Rhodey mentioned.

"What do you mean," Bruce asked.

"Shit got ugly after you left. Fury came calling, uninvited, broke in and took the Asgardians," Rhodes said. "I'll explain more later." He turned his attention back to Tony. "Look man, there's nothing in here that's gonna hurt you. This is all in your head." 

"The threat feels real to him," Bruce tried to explain. "Telling him his fear is unjustified or insinuating he's crazy is just going to make this worse."

"I didn't say he was crazy," Rhodes shot back, but his body language surrendered Tony’s care to the doctor. "So what do you suggest?"

"Can you get me a wet washcloth?"

"A washcloth?" James asked brusquely.

"Yes. Wet it with cold water," Bruce instructed. "Tony's body has heated up as a result of his distress. The contrast in temperatures might distract him along with cooling him down a bit. I'm sure you want to do everything you can to make him more comfortable.”

James did not look happy being sent away, which was clearly what was happening, but he got up and did as he was told.

Alone now, Bruce sat down on the floor, crossing his legs Indian style and settling in to stay as long as needed. 

“Tony," he began calmly, "can you tell me what you’re thinking about?”

He raised his head, his eyes wild and unfocused. “Watch out. The shadows… they have teeth,” he said, eyes darting around the shop. “We have to keep them out. It’s not safe. Everyone… Everyone’s gone. I can’t save anybody. I can’t… I can’t breathe... ” 

Tony dropped the screwdriver he’d held as a weapon. His bloody hand shot out and grabbed at Bruce’s shirt. Tony gasped and tried to force air into lungs that just would not expand. “My heart, it feels like it’s beating out of my chest. Can it do that? I don’t think it can do that…”

Bruce allowed the desperate move. It looked like they were dealing with more than just panic. There was an element of hallucination going on too. Sleep deprivation, toxin, one of Loki's spells? Different causes flitted through Bruce's mind. The one thing he wasn't concerned about was his own safety. If there was one good thing about the Other Guy, this part was it. If Tony did lash out, he couldn't get hurt. 

"Tony," Bruce began again, voice soft but firm. "If this is about the Chitauri, I want to remind you that you did save everyone. Can you remember? I watched you fly up into the portal and you destroyed them with the nuclear bomb. We had shawarma after. It was... not pleasant. Remember the heartburn we had that night and how you wanted me to go to the store with you to buy a box of Tums? I teased you that they don't come in a box… we said we were getting old and how it wasn’t fair that Cap wouldn’t experience heartburn at least once in his life. Remember that?" 

Tony’s fists clenched in Bruce’s shirt. He shook his head. “I... don’t know. Why can’t I remember?” 

He felt lightheaded. The pain from his injured hand wasn’t enough to move him away from anxiety.

Usually, Tony could distract himself and stave off these episodes. He’d been hiding them for months. Although not very successfully. Part of the reason Pepper left was because Tony refused to get help. He refused to acknowledge that he had a problem, even though, deep down, Tony knew he was a hot mess.

"Okay, well, we'll figure it out," Bruce said, continuing to emit a confident, calm demeanor. "Tony, you're breathing very fast. It's probably making you a little dizzy. Why don't you try to focus on slowing your breathing, okay? I'm going to count, and you try to match my number with taking a breath."

As he began to count, far faster than he wanted to, he caught Tony's wrist gently in his hand, wondering why there was so much of the black grease mixed in with Tony's blood. He let it go for now and continued to count, slowing down a bit more and more. Tony wasn't even close to the slow pace, but he was trying, and his respirations weren’t as rapid as before.

"Do you remember coming into the shop this morning?" Bruce wanted to ground Tony in some reality, since that was obviously an issue, but reminding Tony of their argument was probably not the best memory to try and regain. "You know, Dummy is quite concerned. He could use some reassurance right now. We sent him over to his dock, Jarvis and me, but he'd probably appreciate a word from you."

Tony managed to close his eyes. It helped with the dizziness anyway. He tried to get his breathing under control. Having his hands on another living person and Bruce’s utterly calm low baritone was soothing. Tony thought hard and attempted to sort out the confused jumble in his mind.

“H... hey Dummy. Buddy, I’m okay.” He heard the familiar whirr of noise, and it felt like home. “I… I tried out the new suit. It malfunctioned and I crashed. Rhodey was there."

"Okay, so a malfunction," Bruce pointed out. "A mechanical problem, easily explained."

"I flew back to fix it. I was in the shop. There was a loud crash. Then I saw... shadows.”

“Wait. Let’s think about this,” Bruce prompted, feeling Tony tense. "Jarvis would have alerted you to any intruders. He would’ve protected you by not allowing them inside. You programmed him to do this, Tony, to protect you, and he does all the time, never stops.”

“No. They were reaching for me.”

“I'm sure it felt real to you. I'd have been scared too. It’s not a good feeling."

"I locked down the lab. Had to, didn’t want them getting out to hurt anyone else."

“Getting out?” Bruce thought this was about someone or something getting in... “We’re not talking about the Chitauri, are we?”

Tony rubbed at his eyes, his sweat making them tear up and spill down his cheeks. The silence was no longer filled with roaring noise. The artificial lighting was simply bright now. It wasn’t harsh and exposing. Someone was making coffee. Hazelnut coffee. That would be Rhodey, because only Rhodey made hazelnut. 

It wasn’t blood and burnt bodies, just coffee.

"The shadows… They were never there, were they?” Tony whispered. 

"We're all dealing with something," Bruce confided. "It's different for us all, but no one got away unscathed from the Battle without nightmares, or daymares, if you will."

“God, I must be completely fucking nuts. What is wrong with me? I can’t think straight. It’s like my memory is full of holes."

"Well, the logical reason could be that you went through hell while fighting an alien race, who was trying to take over our planet. I don't see your reaction as anything but normal, but hey, what's normal anymore? My only problem here is that you hurt yourself and might not have been able to distinguish between what's real and what is fear's illusion."

"Is that why my hand fucking hurts?” His head also ached like after one of his worst benders and he felt nauseated. 

"Can I look?" Bruce asked, gently turning Tony's wrist over to look at his palm. 

“Yeah, I suppose.” Tony kept his eyes closed and tried to physically stop his shuddering.

Bruce was confused. Tony was talking about things that clearly didn't make sense, talking about things getting out instead of getting in, but the one part of this that did add up was that this was the toxin polluting Tony's body, not necessarily a panic attack. If it was causing hallucinations too, it was far more serious than just a skin reaction and fatigue. And Bruce still couldn't figure out the story behind the black, inky grease on Tony's hand at the wound site. "What were you working on, Tony? I can stitch up your hand easily enough but it's been contaminated with this... with... this…"

Oh God. He'd seen this thick black fluid before. It was identical to the sludge left behind by the leather binding in the trash can he'd taken to the lab to study. 

This time, it was his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

"Tony, when's the last time Loki used his magic to 'heal' you or whatever he's doing to help you with the poison?"

“Umm, yesterday, I think? Loki... he’s uhh...” Tony wrinkled his forehead past the pain. “Fury. The fucker had his goons break into the mansion and he took everyone there. I don’t know what he said to get them to leave, but he’s gone. Loki’s gone. Coulson, Barton, Romanoff and Rogers left the Tower too in a SHIELD vehicle this morning. Everyone’s fucking gone.”

“No. Not everyone,” James said, walking up with a glass of water and the washcloth he was told to fetch.

Tony tried to scramble out from under the table himself but Bruce would not let go and he was really dizzy again.

Wasn't this what Bruce wanted, to be rid of Loki and the scheming chaotic nature of the Asgardian? It was true, but he didn't expect the fall out to be so dramatic. It was no wonder Tony felt panicked. 

"I don't understand,” he stammered. “Why would Loki and Thor just go with Fury, because we know no human can force either of them to do anything against their will. They are too strong. And you think Cap was in on this, too? That doesn't make sense. I know Rogers wouldn't just agree to this. Also, we helped Coulson get to this point. He talked about “The Team.” I just don’t believe he'd betray us. If... if anyone was going to be a dick and turncoat, it would’ve been me." 

Tony and Rhodey said nothing, confirming with their silence that they agreed with his assessment. 

Bruce felt anger bubble up inside him, not over their rightful assumption, but over Fury's intervention, which prompted Tony's rapid and concerning decline. 

It was true, he didn't want Loki around, but now, seeing the poison manifest in Tony this way, seeing the anxiety triggered in Tony caused by Fury's bold militaristic manner of handling things? It was a violation of civilian rights, not to mention the abduction being handled completely inappropriately. 

"Jarvis,” Tony stated, as if he just remembered his greatest ally. “Was Coulson in on this too?"

“Sir, as I tried to inform you earlier, the agents and Captain Rogers left for a SHIELD facility in Flushing to retrieve Agent Barton’s gear. There was some mention of training while there, but not a thing was said about Loki’s arrest or the infiltration of the mansion. They had already departed by the time the security company alerted Ms. Potts and myself to the intrusion at the mansion.”

Rhodey quirked an eyebrow. "So you don't think Coulson knows about what happened at the mansion?"

“I would have to surmise, given the available data, that no, Agent Coulson was not aware of the events that took place,” Jarvis hypothesized.

"Okay, uh, shouldn’t someone tell him,” Bruce wondered aloud, “Because I really like it when he’s got our backs." He looked at Tony, leaving the choice up to him. He couldn't think of a reason why not, but he wanted to give some control back to Tony, make the man think about things a bit and draw his own conclusions. "I mean, Coulson's still on our side.” Then he frowned and turned to James. “There are two sides here, aren't there? Our side and Fury's side?"

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “I think there are about five different sides to this, but let’s not go there.”

“Well, I never thought there'd come a day when I’d contemplate busting Loki out of prison, but um, it is something we need to address, like now. And we probably need Coulson to do it.” 

“Shit!” Tony cursed, using the washcloth to wipe the sweat from his face. “Jarvis, make the call. Tell Coulson everything. He’ll either fuck us over epically or cook up something brilliant. I’m hoping for the latter because obviously, my thought process isn’t what it used to be."

 "Right away, sir." 

“You know," Bruce began, "I really wish you would’ve told me about the panic attacks sooner.”

“Loki warned me,” Tony muttered, “He said there’d be hallucinations, paranoia, gaps in my memory, if I experienced what he went through.”

“It would’ve been nice if you’d have told us that, so we could watch out for you.”

Tony shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. Who the fuck cooks up a poison like that, anyway? Satan? Do they even have Satan in Asgard?"

Rhodey’s flat affect was Tony only answer. 

"Look, I know I haven't been all that… receptive," Bruce admitted sheepishly. "But the information Loki has on the side effects is important to your health. What else did he say?"

"It is going to get worse every single time I have an episode until I die.” Tony admitted. “I guess Fury will get his wish. I won’t be a pain in his ass anymore. Just… no one gets my tech, okay, Rhodey? Destroy it all, every fucking piece. Fury does not get his claws on my suits.”

"Okay, you need to shut up right now," James said. His face was serious but his body language held no malice. You'd have to be blind not to see how concerned the man was for his best friend. "I'm tired of Fury. He doesn't get to win. If you'd just man up and take over his job, this wouldn't be happening."

“I’m not Howard. I don’t want to follow in his enormous footsteps, so leave it alone, okay?” Tony asked, wearily. “Although… the collective apoplexy from Fury and Hill might be worth me stepping into daddy's shoes.”

Bruce had no idea what the colonel was talking about, but it was clear Tony was in no shape to do any kind of take over, corporate, hostile, or the like. His life was slipping away. The more he fought it, the worse it was getting. It was truly a genius way to punish the worse kind of criminal. 

"We’ve got to start from scratch here. Treat you with earthly remedies until Loki can help. I still have some of the medications and preparations in the lab downstairs. We can begin treating the nausea and fatigue again, but Tony... we've got to get some help with this. If not Loki, then it's got to be another geneticist. I can't do this alone. You're not in any shape to help, not with the speed this is moving in your body, and this has got to be researched and worked on 24/7."

“Alright, listen. There was a woman.”

“Isn’t there always?” Rhodes deadpanned.

“I met her at a conference,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “Maya Hansen. Switzerland, 1999. Yeah, I slept with her. She was hot and smart, was working on gene manipulation on a cellular level. She called it reprogramming DNA. Like programming a computer to make it do exactly what you wanted it to do. Jack-into-the-brain type of program. The body modifies itself to accommodate the new coding." 

"Another variation of the serum?

"Yeah," Tony confirmed. "Only problem - the results were unstable. The test subjects kinda tended to blow up. Plants not people,” Tony interjected when his friends gawked. “I haven't even thought about her in years, but maybe she can help. Might even remember me fondly? I did leave Maya with a big smile on her face, if you know what I mean.”

Tony tried for a leering smirk but it came out looking rather sickly.

Bruce recognized the name and went through his memory of her written research papers. "Once again, this is dangerous ground, Tony, but-“ 

"He's got black blood oozing out of his hand, Dr. Banner. Whatever you're going to say, I hope it is going to helpful."

Bruce looked awkwardly at Rhodes, who was clearly giving him warning. 

"I was going to say that I've read her dissertation on recoding human genes to reprogram their repairative properties. If I were to be honest, I really don’t want someone dicking around with Tony's DNA code. After what I’ve been through, I trust no one to do that, not even myself. And,” Bruce said, pausing to look at Tony and then down at the floor, “If I were to learn anything from this morning's argument, it is that Tony is the only one in charge of his body, and anything the rest of us say about it is nothing more than unsolicited advice. Basically, it is another form of judgment, which he doesn’t need.”

“Alright,” James said, looking rather pleased. He turned his eyes to Tony. "So what’s your next move, Stark?"

“I say we find out where she's at in her research, see if it can help. But, shit, I’m not even sure where Maya is anymore. I think she was working out of a privately-funded lab, as you cutting-edge geneticists usually do. They hit Stark Industries up for money a while ago for some kind of organic synthesized skin for grafting. That had to have been five or six years ago.”

“Synthesized skin?” 

“Yeah,” Tony said, waving his hand casually at Rhodes’ concern. “Jarvis, location on Maya Hansen.” 

Tony winced as Bruce cleaned the wound on his hand, slowing the bleeding.

“Sir, Dr. Maya Hansen’s last known address is listed Boston, Massachusetts. She was employed by a company called Futurepharm. Stark Industries did provide the funding for their skin graft research.”

“Awesome. Any mention of Extremis?” Tony kept his eyes shut as a dressing as applied to his wound. The whole process was making him horribly nauseated.

"Ex... Extremis?" Bruce asked, rhetorically. It was a good name. It was more accurate than "super soldier serum." It was his opinion that anything dealing with modifying genetic code should have calamity, catastrophe, or colossal mistake in the naming of it somewhere. 

“No, sir. Nothing beyond a few papers published on the practical applications of the process. It is not currently listed as projects in development on the company’s database. Also, I have discovered that the doctor’s home has been sublet. She appears to have taken a leave of absence from her workplace. There is no recent credit card activity and her bank account also shows no activity for the last six months. Would you like me to dig deeper?” Jarvis queried.

“No, but that’s odd. It was her life’s work, her dream. Maya seemed so passionate about it. It makes me wonder who else might have been interested in Extremis.”

“Or, her work killed her,” Bruce stated, unrepentantly. 

Tony paled a bit but knew Bruce could be right. “Hey, as much as you hate to hear this, it looks like Loki might be my only chance."

“I think you may be right,” Bruce admitted. “But, something to ask about later: I heard Loki and Thor talking about rocks or apples or something. Loki said until he could muster up enough dark magic to send Thor there, they couldn't get the things they needed that may help you."

“Apples? He's going to cure me with apples? Great. I guess I’ll just have to hang on until then. We don’t even know how long I have, how bad it’s going to get, and if I’ll be any help at all when it does. Story of my life. Kidnappings, near death experiences, getting blown up, shrapnel lodged in my chest, nearly asphyxiated and flung back to earth from another dimension. Oh, and of course, getting poisoned. 

“Twice,” Rhodes muttered, thinking of the palladium. 

“Twice! How much do I fucking have to atone for?” Tony growled.

"But you always pull through," James reminded. He knew all too well of Tony's mortality and how many times he'd cheated death. It was astounding, but no one had that kind of luck forever. "And when we go down, we're gonna go down swinging."

Bruce knew Rhodes was right. This was dire, but they'd not just let Tony go quietly into the beyond. 

"We need Loki," he finally stated. "I know he can hold back the worst of the symptoms. Can you..." he began, looking towards the colonel.

"Oh hell no," James said emphatically. "I hate Fury.”

“Well, Tony can’t go, and I should stay to try and stabilize him.”

“Aw damn it.” Rhodey paced the floor, glaring at Tony like this was all his fault. He'd just come to terms with the fact that he was going to have to deal with SHIELD'S director over this, but to be forced into it, with the only option being his best friend's anguish.... damn. 

"You owe me," he said to Tony, as if the man wasn't lying on his deathbed. "If I go break your boyfriend out of jail, you owe me, Tony. And you do too," he said to Bruce. 

“Don’t use the term ‘boyfriend’,” Bruce said, wincing a little.

“Yeah, we haven’t really identified our relationship yet,” Tony said, satirically, much to Bruce’s chagrin. 

“This is all very uncomfortable,” James stated.

“Welcome to my life. Hey, you need a car. Take one. Your pick.” Tony waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the garage level. “Or hey, how about the villa in Tuscany? You get the cars when I die, anyway, so if you want one now, they’re practically already yours…” Tony literally could not finish. What was meant to come off as teasing ended up flat and morbid.

"Would you just shut up about 'after you're gone'?" Rhodey shook his head, both angered by what he was seeing and empathetic. "I'll take a suit," James explained. "It might get sticky, you know, me and Fury not being cozy with one another."

"Aren't you owned by the military?" Bruce asked. "So to invade SHEILD would be like treason or something?"

"They own the War Machine and my time on the clock," James clarified sternly. "They don't own me. So I'm going to take one of Tony's suits. Personally, I like the Mark 5. It's got style."

“Oh hey, you know what? I’ve got just what you need,” Tony stood up from the stool and tried not to hurl. “Come on. I'll show you. You’d find out sooner or later anyway.” 

"Find out what?"

He attempted to walk on his own but was failing miserably. “God, this is embarrassing. A little help here? We’re going downstairs, as in underground.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? You should be resting.” Rhodey easily took Tony’s weight as he steered him towards his private elevator. "Just give me the codes and I'll use the Mark 5. You don't have to go anywhere. Jarvis can hook me up with any mods I need."

“No, I want to show you this. I trust you to do what’s necessary if and when worse comes to worst. Bruce, you just get to gawk.” When they got into the lift, Tony leaned against the wall and kept his eyes resolutely closed. As smooth as the ride was, it still made his stomach churn, floor after floor, until they hit the sub-basements. The elevator stopped, and Tony keyed in a special code to gain access to the corridor. It put them in a short hallway ending in a massive steel door.

"Jesus, Tony. Did you take us to hell?"

“More like Heaven. Welcome to my dirty little secret,” Tony announced. "Which, we now need to get mapped to your identity, by the way."

At the portal doorway, Tony was subjected to a retinal scan, voice print analysis, and a dermal scan. Then, the hermetically sealed door opened with a slight whoosh.

“Okay J, light ‘em up.” Tony could not keep the note of pride out of his voice. This was his legacy. These were sum of his life's creations. Was it screwed up? Yes, but he felt pride, nonetheless.

The room was bathed in a bright white light, and forty two alcoves were illuminated. One bay stood empty but the rest were filled with Iron Man suits, a vast array of individually different Iron Man armors. 

“Witness the fruits of my sleepless nights and manic paranoia.”

"Holy shit, Stark." Rhodes turned in a slow circle, eyes taking in the spectacle in boyish wonder. "When..."

Bruce was also in complete awe of the array of suits lining the walls. They looked like collector's items, all shelved perfectly on display. He knew they were all in working order. What didn't make sense was how Tony could mass produce so many of these. He could see they were each individual. Some were even larger models with more bulk than the others. Some were svelte and lean and even colored differently. He looked to James for an answer but the man still too overcome with the spectacle to answer.

“I am Legion.” Slowly, the wheels started turning in Rhodey's mind. Once he got past the sheer delight of seeing that each one had an obvious purpose, he did the math. “To produce these suits would take countless man hours. I know Jarvis and the bots can manufacture and assemble anything you laid out for them, based on the schematics, but those would have to be produced first. Shit! All of this, from your mind, a mind that doesn’t sleep and a body that doesn’t eat. This is… this is dysfunctional, man,” James finally uttered. 

This was a disorder, an illness. This was as bad as any vice out there. Tony couldn't reconcile what he saw during the Battle, and this was the result. “You built an army.”

“Yeah,” was Tony’s timid yet candid answer.

For what purpose? To protect? To destroy? Rhodey had many guesses, but his previous desire to freak out like a fanboy morphed into a profound sadness. 

Tony was sick, and he needed help. 

He looked at his best friend and saw recognition of all of this in Tony's eyes. The man would blow it off, yes, but the words had been spoken silently between them. There was no need to chastise, particularly not when Tony's life was on the line again. He'd entrusted Rhodey to the pinnacle of his technological advances before, and he was doing it again now.

James turned and looked at Bruce. "Bet none of your friends ever built themselves a legion before."

Bruce couldn't help it. He chuckled. It was like stumbling upon a massive dragon and learning it was what your friend referred to as merely his guard dog. 

He was reminded yet again that these people played in a league totally different from what he was used to. This was well beyond him. 

And someone should call Pepper, but he'd leave that call to Rhodey. 

"How, um, how many?" Bruce said, pointing skyward.

Tony strolled around the room, using the wall as support. He stopped at the largest one. “Forty two in all. Some are ready to go, others I’m still tinkering with. This big boy here is for construction, heavy lifting, you know, in case of another disaster. And this one is for radiation-polluted areas. These three are all construction suits. This one has the best sensors. It is for search and rescue. A lot of them are weaponized. All the ones on that wall are for disaster prevention. They are the aggressors. You see, we have to be ready. I’ve seen what’s out there, and what the military has is not enough. It’ll never be enough. I had to build these suits. I need to protect the people I care about. I can’t sleep, so I figured I’d put my time to good use.”

Tony ended his little tour at a rather flashy model. This suit was black and silver with red and orange flames licking up the legs. He patted it fondly. “This one is yours, Rhodey. I call it Hot Rod, War Machine 2.0. Better weapons, stronger armor, faster, and more maneuverable. It’s all yours, buddy, coded to only work with your DNA.”

"Shit. I think I just jizzed in my pants," Rhodey admitted. He walked over to the armor, lovingly stroking it and admiring the details visible to his eyes. He wanted inside it. Now. It was like sex only better. 

But Tony didn't look so good.

The last of his energy gone, Tony sank to the floor with his arm resting against the armor’s left leg.

James crouched down beside him.

"Hey," he said, lifting Tony's chin with a finger. "We're gonna fix this, okay? All of it. Not that I can't appreciate what you’ve done here, but Tony, we’ve got to get you to live again, not just survive. This place is like a wet dream, and really, I'm having a hard time not acting like a fool right now, but this isn't right. The doc and I are going get you upstairs and he's going to fix you up while I run and spring that crazy Asgardian of yours. Then, we're going to start putting the pieces back together. And it will go a lot smoother if you're on board. You get what I mean?"

Bruce stepped back. He never was good with words, not when it really mattered. The colonel had been firm but affectionate, commanding yet kind. It was no wonder they were close. Tony and James had so much in common. Their military backgrounds and these suits were just some of those things. But Rhodes was right in that they'd all do their best to help Tony, now and after they'd found a cure for his disease. They'd have to fix his mind too, somehow, someway. Because obviously, Tony never felt safe after the Battle. He was still living his life as if attack was imminent. It was as unhealthy as what Coulson went through, only Tony wasn't a product of the serum, and that kind of stress would kill him. Particularly now with Loki's poison in him.

“Yeah I get it, and thanks.”

Tony looked at both Bruce and Rhodey. He had no idea what he did to deserve such loyalty. The fact that Rhodey stuck by Tony all these years, even after being treated like shit, was no small miracle. 

Then there was Bruce: Finally, someone that basically understood when he began to ramble about scientific theory and mathematical equations, someone he could banter with and exchange ideas, one brilliant mind to another. Tony could practically feel how desperately Bruce needed that kind of camaraderie. Truth be told, Tony needed a contemporary just as much. He’d never made many friends in the community. Jealousy, competition or egos simply got in the way.

Now both men looked at him with concern and compassion, despite Tony’s bad choices. “Really. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it again,” James said, “It’s getting uncomfortable, man,” he joked.

They helped Tony to his feet and then into the elevator. Once at Tony’s suite, they made a brief detour into the bathroom since he was determined to empty his stomach contents. Sweating, shaking, and miserable, Tony let them tend to him, something he would have balked at just a few days ago. But now with his mortality looming closer, he soaked in the caring attention like a sponge.

“I’m okay. You don’t have to stay. You’re supposed to retrieve a prince for me,” Tony reminded.

“He’ll wait a few more minutes,” Rhodey replied. He scooted close to Tony on the bed and took out his phone, not flinching once when Tony rested his head on his shoulder. 

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it,” Rhodey mentioned, checking his messages. Four from Pepper. He was not looking forward to the conversation they were going to soon have.

“I finally got you in my bed and am too sick to do anything about it. I’m devastated,” Tony said, pouting.

“Just watch the hands, buddy. Now try and get some sleep.” Rhodey glanced over and was gratified that Tony’s eyes were already shut. “Jarvis, can you retrieve the Hot Rod suit and bring it up to the shop?”

“It is already flight prepped and waiting for you, colonel.”

“Thanks,” James whispered. He waited until Bruce returned with his laptop before crawling out of the bed to leave for Flushing. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Bruce said, knowing everything would be different from this point forward. New alliances needed to be formed, he just hoped Loki wasn’t as stubborn as he’d been about it.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to everyone who has read and left the most awesome comments.

The Flushing SHIELD weapons depot was one of Phil's favorites. It was nearly as old as he was. 

It had all the new hi-tech security and advantages SHIELD was renowned for, but the layout was old school: flat levels of intermingling hallways, large steel doors, and creepy mad-scientist lighting in the passageways. It was a weapons depot, a gym, and a garage with some office space. Oh and it had a vast amount of holding cells in place of the old R&D level. The downtown Manhattan office near Time Square was like a modern embassy. It glittered and gleamed with the rest of New York City. But this place, it was like Brooklyn in the 1940s.

What wasn't old school was the intense lock down of every doorway. Phil found it frustrating that he had to endure the key code, retinal scan, and dermal scan to progress down the halls. He figured he'd be blind by the time he made it to the men’s restroom. Furthermore, he balked when he was denied entry into the upper echelon of the administrative quarters. He could override them, but that would alert everyone to his movement, and what was the point in that?

This was overkill, really. If Fury truly determined him such a threat, why allow him access at all? 

This wasn't adding up, and of course, no one was around to speak to about the bizarre twilight zone feel to the facility. This couldn't just be about Barton's actions during the Battle nor could it be about his full return to health. The facility was completely clear agents, level 7 and higher.

Coulson was debating his options when his earpiece buzzed. It startled him at first, his thoughts immediately going to Barton and his team. If they'd been given any grief, he was going to get nasty and pull out everything from blackmail to the Destroyer gun.

He pushed the receiver button. "Coulson."

"Agent Coulson," Jarvis replied in his distinctive voice. "Colonel Rhodes asked me to advise you of the situation at the mansion this morning."

Phil's brow rose. It could be anything from another portal opening for an alien invasion to an emotional meltdown in public involving the Hulk, the Iron Man suit, and a civilian capturing it all on their phone. It would be on YouTube before Phil could say Pepper Potts.

"What happened?"

"To start, sir and Dr. Banner had a verbal disagreement which resulted in both leaving the premises; the doctor on foot, sir in a prototype suit. Colonel Rhodes pursued sir in a chaperoned capacity.”

“Okay, is everyone still accounted for?”

“Yes, but I must explain what happened next, which is the crux of the matter: When the Asgardians were left unattended, Fury and STRIKE agents entered the premises without permission and abducted the Asgardian brothers along with Lieutenant Jordan.”

“Abducted?” Coulson took a moment. His mind was a whirl of images, data, contingencies, variables, and predictions of behaviors. Like a bully on the playground, Fury had taken one of Stark’s favorite toys when the boy wasn’t watching. “Wow. That was not what I was expecting, but okay. Continue.”

“We need to retrieve the Asgardians. Loki holds sir’s life in his hands.”

“Alright.” Coulson nodded, surprised by the AI’s conviction. “Obviously, Fury would take them somewhere close but remote to minimize any damage SHIELD might incur if Loki went nuts. Not the downtown Manhattan office… but this facility is perfect.”

Coulson glanced down at the floor, as if he could see the holding cells below his shoes. He cursed out loud, thinking how ironic it was that he'd brought his team to the very place he'd tried to distance them from - the chaos that followed the dark Asgardian wherever he went.

“Shifting gears, what's happening with Stark's health?" The AI paused long enough for Phil to rub at his temples with his fingers. "Jarvis, please remember that I'm still on Stark's side. I'm trying to hold this team together, to give them some independence while maintaining stability, and that means I have to know if I need to get Stark some help when he needs it."

“… What he needs is Loki.”

“That’s a very romantic notion,” Coulson mocked. “I know you are right, whatever Loki is doing to keep Tony alive, it needs to continue.” 

"Sir is unwell. The poison has worsened his condition dramatically and is starting to affect his mental acuity."

Coulson knew if they lost Stark, the team would fall apart. There were two bolts in the machine that held all the gears together: Tony was one of them, Cap the other. If they lost Tony, they'd lose Banner and all the tech and weaponry that Stark provided. Pepper would continue with the company, but no one would have the - albeit tense but trusted - relationship with SHIELD that Tony Stark did. It was a family thing.

If they lost Tony, Cap would also lose faith in Fury, and who would Rogers align himself with? He could take Bucky and return to the military. Certainly, he would find an ally in Colonel James Rhodes, but that path lead dangerously close to General Ross, and Phil didn't want Cap or Bucky anywhere near that bastard. He wanted Cap where he could protect him and let him do what Cap does best. 

"Okay. I know Loki is here somewhere. Can you locate him?"

"I am working on it now. The patterns of movement on New York City's CCTV indicate that the Director brought his cargo there shortly before you arrived. I can have confirmation of Loki's whereabouts in the facility within two minutes if you patch me into the servers."

"Let me find a terminal. Can you jump from the servers at the Stark Expo to SHIELD’S database?”

“It is very likely that sir purposely put a line in from those servers, and if not him, then Howard Stark would have done so.”

“Noted. I’m going to try Fury’s override codes,” he said, finally shouldering his way into an administrator’s office and sitting down at the computer desk. 

Coulson had two options: leave now with his team and come back alone, or find Fury and Loki now and try to mediate. From what Jarvis described, Loki hadn't tried to escape. That fact was on their side. Thor appeared to be keeping close enough tabs on his little brother, so Fury's power move was perplexing. 

"Alright, you should be in. Can you find your way?" Phil asked.

"Yes, I am in the system now."

"Excellent," Coulson said. “I’m glad something of value came from my time with Tesseract in SHIELD'S mainframe.”

“We have access to all doors. However, SHIELD is now picking me up as a virus in the system."

"Can you confuse the issue?" Phil said, moving down the hallway again.

"I can, but they have chasers already tracking you. It looks like they were expecting to be hacked."

"Of course they were. They took something from Stark. They were damn right to believe he would try to come and get it.”

“I don’t believe Loki would like being referred to as Sir’s possession.”

“I don’t know, he seems kinky like that,” Coulson joked, peeking around a corner.

He moved quickly down the hallways with Jarvis’ direction but met no resistance from any other person. It was eerie. He longed for his sidearm, since he wasn't physically up to a hand-to-hand battle. Having Barton assist was out of the question, both professionally and personally. He didn’t even want Clint to know Loki was here. Perhaps the archer already did, just as Phil knew. It was almost like a sixth sense. That was something neither of them had even mentioned.

It was Cap he actually wanted with him, a nearly indestructible powerhouse to have his back, but he wasn't sure he could advise Rogers and verbally guide him through the facility without tipping off Romanoff or Barton. 

"Coulson, Loki appears to be held beyond the next door in the interrogation quarters along with Thor and Lieutenant Jordan and, most likely, twenty STRIKE agents."

"Understood. I know he’s in there. I can almost feel him asking for assistance." Coulson raised his hand to punch in the override code. 

"Please don't do that."

Coulson turned to face Sitwell. "Had you advised me of this, I wouldn't have brought Barton and Romanoff. This could have gone so much smoother."

"I couldn’t tell you,” Jasper said. “Those two are closer to you than your own shadow. Very protective. They wouldn't have let you come alone into hostile territory. Keeping you out of the loop was the only option.”

“And your only option now that I know is to let me in there. Provoking the Asgardians is absolutely the worst thing Fury can do at the moment. It will ruin any chance that we have to utilize them for our purposes.”

“Whose purposes?”

“Ours. SHIELD’S. Are you questioning my loyalty?”

“Yeah,” Sitwell admitted. “Come on. You just woke up from an alien-induced coma. What SHIELD agent wouldn’t question you?”

“Point.” Coulson really wanted his firearm. “Regardless, I’m going inside that room. Every second Loki is in there with Fury is one second closer to mass destruction. Trust me on this. In case you forgot, the youngest prince is kind of volatile, particularly when provoked.”

"This was bad timing, Phil, not a cover up,” Jasper tried to explain. “Had you been an hour earlier, you'd have gotten Barton's gear and been gone. We weren't going to deny him that, based on your assessment of his mental health. As it stands, you can still pull out and take your team back to Stark's Tower without their knowledge of our guest."

"Except Stark obviously knows what you've done. He isn't happy. When Stark's not happy, he makes sure everyone in the general vicinity knows it. And usually, that means Dr. Banner isn't happy either.”

Sitwell scowled. 

“Yeah, you brought this on yourself. I have Jarvis in your mainframe --"

“You what? And you wonder why I’m questioning your loyalty?”

“All I need to do is ask him to contact Banner. The Hulk will rip through any door you have in this bunker. I won’t need a keycode or password to retrieve the Asgardians and the lieutenant. He’s mixed up in this by no want of his own.”

Sitwell pursed his lips and paced the hall. "Banner wouldn't mind Loki's stay here. He hates the Asgardian and would happily use him as a punching bag."

"Normally, he'd endorse it. But this time, you don't have all the intelligence,” Coulson said, knowing Banner would never jeopardize Tony’s health. “So right now, I bet Banner is quite angry that you damaged any accord they'd managed to strike between such an uncommon ally. It was an extremely delicate situation that required a lot of personal sacrifice on their behalf. Think intergalactic peace treaty, and you just managed to destroy all their hard work by acting like a bunch of boy scouts trying to work a high profile hostage detail."

Sitwell scoffed. "Boy scouts with impeccable timing and Destroyer weapons who acquired their target without loss of life. Where's the blunder?"

"Agent Coulson," Jarvis said in his ear piece. "Colonel Rhodes has arrived topside in a suit provided to him by sir. He is not acting as War Machine for the United States military. He has stated that he is here on his own accord. He has told me to lie and say that that Dr. Banner is currently en route at the speed at which the Hulk vaults buildings in a single bound. How cliché," he added, as sarcastically as an AI could be.

"Uh oh," Coulson said to Sitwell, with a mockingly-sympathetic face. He pointed upwards. "Incoming.”

Jasper paled.

“Results of your “blunder” just showed up in a heavily armed armor suit with repulsor technology. I’m told a big, angry, green guy may also be en route. I'd advise staying out of His way, for your own safety. It doesn't look like you have many agents here to assist but please tell them to stand down. This will most assuredly get ugly."

"Shit," Jasper exclaimed. He pushed on an earpiece of his own, advising Fury of the threat now apparent, while jogging back down the hallway towards the above-ground entrance.

Coulson turned back to the door to enter in the last override code.

When the door opened from the other side, Fury crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Exactly whose side are you on?"

"Good morning, Director. Do you have a moment to discuss the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ? Because I fear one or both of us are going to meet him soon if you don't start listening to me about delicate situations such as this."

Fury's jaw clenched. "You used to be my favorite agent. Now you're just another pain in my ass."

"Don't get me started," Coulson warned, boldly passing him to speak directly to Thor.

~*~

James Rhodes had fire running through his veins. This new “hot rod” suit was the gasoline. He was high as a kite off all these modifications and wanted to ditch the cumbersome War Machine for this stealthy beast.

He landed like a boss, forming a small crater in the cement outside the bay doors. He raised his fist and armed the laser guided missiles that popped out of the arm guard. He lifted the weapon closer to his face mask to admire the cigar-sized missiles. "Damn, Tony. Did you modify Hammer’s “ex-wife” to a working model? I'm gonna kiss you when I get back."

"Colonel," Jarvis interrupted. "Agent Coulson has been advised of your arrival. Also, several agents are on their way to intercept you and what they think is going to be the Hulk. Loki has been found and Coulson has entered the interrogation room to retrieve him now."

"Right," James said, lowering the volume of his music. He felt like a teenager who'd scored his dad's corvette. He didn't want to fight. He wanted to cruise the town and show off. But, well, Tony was so sick and needed their help. And if Tony couldn't be his wingman, then showing off would have to wait. 

Loki first.

The bay doors the facility opened. Rhodey cleared his throat and shook his excitement off like water. He recognized Agent Sitwell in his brown suit, looking all stuffy and butthurt as usual. What a buzz kill. "Let's do this, J."

"I am at your service."

"Greetings earthling," he announced to Agent Sitwell, over-arming himself for show. "Surrender the princess or die."

~*~

Coulson paced near the door of the interrogation room, arms crossed in front of him. His eyes moved from person to person, as those in the room spoke over each other repeatedly. It was like the most dangerous game of verbal ping pong ever conceived. 

In the middle of it sat Lieutenant Jordan, as if he was tied to the chair. He wasn’t, but he made no efforts to move. He seemed entranced while trying to follow Loki’s snide negations of Fury’s concern for the planet and its inhabitants. 

Clearly the kid had balls. 

When Thor’s voice rose, accompanied by an intense accusation towards Fury’s intentions, Phil cleared his throat and touched the ear piece. "Jarvis?"

"Yes, Agent Coulson?"

"I'd like you to locate Agents Romanoff and Barton please."

"I will try."

"Asking too much of you?" he said, over the escalating argument.

"I can multitask like no other system on the planet, Agent Coulson."

"Of course," Phil replied. "If you do locate them, can you keep them where they are?

"Are you asking me to block them from your exit route?"

"I am."

"Very well," Jarvis replied, conveying all the annoyance an AI could.

"Yo, Coulson."

"Rhodes. Glad to have you here this morning," he said into his comm.

"Let's do this, man. I got Sitwell here pissing me off with his chatter."

"Understood," Coulson said. “Attaining target now. Stand by for egress.” 

Phil clapped his hands together and rubbed them eagerly.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he began, walking farther into the room, forcing Loki to acknowledge his presence again. Thor was next to recognize him and fall into silence. Then Fury finally, finally shut up.

"From what I understand, you've all presented your demands. I’ll summarize for you, since you’re obviously incapable of moving beyond pride towards the objectives you’ve all set forth.

“Loki: You will combine your knowledge of Thanos, the Tesseract, and your magic with Stark’s superiority in weapons manufacturing and our nuclear fusion. You will help create a defense system, fully governed by SHIELD, to prevent future alien invasions from occurring again. You said none of the other realms have nuclear fusion. Surprising, but it’s cool to have our own niche. We can and will use it to prevent another attack, which will go a long way towards your desired redemption. If you fail, Fury has the arcstone, and so Odin will hear about it. I think that’s enough incentive to keep you on the straight and narrow.

“Thor: You and I have agreed to oversee the project each step of the way and act as law enforcement. We’ll rope in Banner and Rogers to add to the level of integrity of our sworn supervision. I think you’ll agree, Director, it goes without asking that Rogers will volunteer for this, particularly once he understands the importance of keeping Stark and Loki from blowing up the planet. So that’s settled, right?”

The Asgardians eyed each other wearily but make no argument. 

“Finally, Fury: You want to go to Asgard to chat up Odin. Unreasonable demand, since Thor can’t even return home until Loki has done his part. Still, you have Thor’s word that when he is able, he will ask Odin about scoring you some vacation time on Asgard. If you ever doubt that he tried to make travel arrangements, you have the arcstone and can ask him yourself.”

"It would be a diplomatic excursion,” Fury defended. “And who the hell put you in charge?"

"I did," Coulson stated. "After twelve minutes of trading insults, it is obvious you need a mediator, someone to handle this for you. Well, that's what I do. I handle things. Now, we have the skeleton foundations laid for a sensitive contract involving the interests of all parties. We will now take our leave.”

"Lieutenant, with me" Coulson said, moving his fingers in a way to beckon the young medic to him. Bobby moved slowly in the unfamiliar calm.

"Director, you have a very angry man in a suit of armor with enough weaponry to blow this facility to the skies. Funny thing is, because we’re on Stark property, I think Rhodes could actually do it, guessing he has Tony’s permission. Let me take the Asgardians and we'll return to Stark Tower. I'll circumvent the others and everyone can walk away alive. We forged a new reason to play nice with others, a new weapons system to save the world, and an upcoming otherworldly vacation plan."

"You make light of this---”

“I hope you will never experience the weight of what I endured, so make no mistake, I am quite serious when I tell you I’m taking the Asgardians and holding each of you to your word.”

Fury folded his arms over his chest. “I do not like you at all right now."

"This will all work out in the end. Trust me."

Loki stood. A loud chuckle burst from his grinning mouth and he slapped Fury on the back. He squeezed his shoulder harder than he should. "On the contrary, I like your agent so much better this time around."

Thor growled in frustration as he led Loki by the arm towards the doorway. "By your leave," Thor said to Fury, for diplomacy's sake.

"Apparently," Fury mumbled.

Phil watched them pass, meeting Loki's gaze but not sharing his amusement. "Jarvis, please only open the doors that lead them to the garage area."

“As you ask.”

"Coulson," Fury said.

“What is it?” He halted in his exit, dreading whatever reprimand was coming.

"This whole thing –, Loki, Stark, the weapons project, and now, the Winter Soldier? No matter what the Tesseract may have told you, that’s more than one person can handle."

"I'm not doing it alone," he answered honestly. "You'd be surprised how many of the Avengers keep each other in check. If you'd have taken the time to get to know them, you'd understand that. And this has little to do with the Tesseract, unless you count being proactive as a side effect. It’s the right thing to do, and you know it."

"Phil, I'm not your enemy."

"Then be my ally again, Nick. The energy I use counteracting your resistance? I’d love to put it towards something far more productive for all of us."


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this bit of Phlint. With special guest star Darcy Lewis.

Clint got to the range at Flushing’s SHIELD base and felt like he could finally breathe. He took his bow, nocked an arrow, sighted, and released. It hit the target dead center.

Draw and release, draw and release. It was a calming, soothing repetitive act. Clint ignored the slight burning in the muscles of his arms. He refused to acknowledge the minute trembling as he pulled the bowstring. He had practice bows with a lighter draw weight, but stubborn pride kept him from getting them.

Clint had to smile at a particularly amusing memory:

Coulson liked to have Clint on hand when the junior newbies went through weapons training. He was there to get them to think outside the box, exercises geared towards helping them stay alive if things went south. There were rooms set up with mundane random objects: household, office supplies, and things you’d find in a garage. Coulson demonstrated how all of them could be weaponized. Clint excelled in being terrifyingly precise will all manner of projectiles, even things that could not even remotely be considered a ranged weapon.

The archer was mocked by his peers more than once for using a bow. One agent’s face, in particular, came to mind. He could not recall the moron’s name, but he remembered that he was huge, a full head taller than Clint, and carried a good 50 pounds more muscle.

As Clint demonstrated his ability with the bow, junior agent moron walked up and mocked the archer for using “a pussy archaic weapon.” Clint looked over at Coulson, and at his handler’s nod, handed the newbie his bow.

Smirking, Agent Moron tried to draw it. His face turned red from effort, grunting as he tried to draw it back. Newbie finally managed to pull it back all of 3 inches before letting loose of the string. Sweating, he handed the bow back to Clint with only a sneer of wounded pride.

Clint grasped the reinforced top limb of the bow, and before junior agent moron could even blink, the archer used the specialized weapon to sweep the newbie off his feet onto his back. He placed his combat boot against the agent’s throat and nocked an arrow. He held the gasping man at arrow point for a full minute until panic began. Then he released the arrow. It buried itself into the floor a breath from and man’s left cheek, catching a few strands of the man’s dark hair and pinning it to the ground.

The archer never saw the man again.

He returned from his memories when he finally ran out of arrows. Clint walked down the range to retrieve them and see how he’d faired. He hadn’t missed one of the varied targets, both stationary and moving.

He was relieved to know he hadn’t lost his skill. But he was kind of bored and wanted to find his team, specifically Coulson. No alarms had sounded, so the archer assumed his handler had not gotten into too much trouble. 

He returned to the locker room and grabbed his uniform, spare clothes, and the rest of his gear, stuffing it all into a duffle before heading to the gym, bow in hand, quiver over his shoulder like so many times before.

When he walked into the main portion of the gym, Clint stopped and tried not to laugh. Steve was lying flat out on the mat dripping sweat and breathing heavily, eyes staring up at the ceiling. Nat was in no better shape. She mirrored Cap’s pose from a few inches away and greedily gulped in air.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d have to wonder what I walked into,” Clint said with a wide grin. “Natasha, you naughty girl, taking advantage of a national hero like that.” 

She raised her middle finger and aimed it in the archer’s direction. “Fuck you, Barton.”

“You wish, you wish. So tell me, who kicked whose ass?” Clint did extend a hand and pulled Nat to her feet.

“I think it was a draw,” Steve said, easily rising to his feet. “I didn’t realize how fast she is. I mean, I’ve seen her fight, but I could barely get a hand on her.”

“That’s our girl,” Clint boasted.

“You wish,” she threw back with a smile. Natasha disappeared into the locker room for a moment and came back out in her street clothes carrying a small duffle bag of her own. 

“It’s been a while, and I haven’t heard from Coulson. Since I don’t hear any alarms, and there are no explosions, I wonder if he got the intel he was looking for?”

“Maybe we should go find out.” Steve followed the two agents to the hallway door. “I really didn’t like us splitting up, but this is a SHIELD facility. We’re all on the same side, right?” 

Clint hissed audibly. “Now you’ve done it. You jinxed us.”

“Yes. Now, according to Barton, we are doomed,” Nat deadpanned.

Clint took out his phone and tried calling the agent in question. He frowned when Coulson didn’t answer. “Okay. Not liking this at all. He's not picking up.”

“Maybe we should try back at the car.” Steve opened the door to the hallway and walked towards the main entrance. “We don’t have clearance to wander around.”

“Like that’s ever stopped us before.” 

They got to the main entrance and Steve pulled on the door handle. “Huh. I think the door is locked.”

Natasha frowned and tried it herself. Definitely locked. “There’s a suspicious lack of activity at this entrance. It seems almost deserted, which is a huge security risk.”

Then the locks clicked and the door opened. On the other side, Coulson appeared. 

He stepped through the threshold of the doorway and looked at Barton first, saw his gear, and nodded. Nat and Steve looked sweaty, as if they'd had some torrid romp. And here Coulson was flirting with mortality again instead of enjoying the agents he loved most. Things could've been so much easier and fulfilling this day.

“Sir?” Barton questioned.

"There's been a situation. I'll fill you in on the way back to Stark Tower," he informed them succinctly. He turned and dug keys from his pants pocket, confident his team would follow. 

When they passed Agent Sitwell, no words were exchanged. 

Clint and Nat shared a look. Their posture shifted to one of defense. Steve followed silently, glancing cautiously over his shoulder. 

Clint’s concern only grew. This was Coulson in full Do-not-fuck-with me Agent Mode. Natasha must have realized it too because there wasn’t the usual bantering about who got shotgun in the car. Clint got into the SUV next to his handler and Natasha got in the back next to Steve.

It wasn’t until they were driving away and cleared the last security checkpoint that Clint saw Coulson's shoulders marginally relax. By the clench of his handler’s jaw, Clint though he might be well on the way to a nasty headache. He wanted to ask but knew he’d get nothing but silence until Coulson was ready to reveal what he could. The man was reviewing all the angles and planning which direction to take his team. 

Clint just had to wait.

Coulson was on mental autopilot. His mind was racing with thoughts far removed from the cab of the SUV, like how he'd forgotten to tell Jarvis that Thor was giving Loki a ride back to the Tower via Mjolnir, while Rhodes followed behind. He also wished someone could have driven Lieutenant Jordan back to the Towers, but he had handed the kid keys and put him in a SHIELD vehicle to make his way back on his own. Getting the hostages out of the base had become the mission. He hoped the young nurse wasn’t so flustered that he’d not be able to drive safely.

Perhaps Rhodes called in the warning to the rest of the Tower. It would do Banner good to be warned of Loki’s imminent approach. He couldn’t predict how the prince would react to being first taken hostage and then brought back to what he claimed was just another posh prison in different venue.

Coulson was also thinking about Fury, how he allowed Barton and Romanoff entry and the exit. He was grateful he didn't have to fight that fight. Perhaps they could start trusting one another again. He wasn't sure where the distrust had come from, other than the obvious - that he was under the Tesseract's control while in a coma. That hadn't been a good experience for anyone, and yet, he remained relatively unscathed. The throbbing headache he now sported wasn't fun. He'd track down Banner first thing and get something for it before moving on to aiding the team in finding their feet again.

Phil sat up in the seat, gripping the top of the wheel tightly. He rode the brake softly, coming to a crawl over the bridge back to Manhattan. It made the perfect opportunity for debrief. This wasn’t going to be fun.

Clint watched the scenery through windows, constantly keeping an eye in the side mirror for any SHIELD vehicles following them. He shifted in the seat and stretched his aching shoulders, chewed on a few hangnails until they were raw. The silence nagged at him until he finally couldn’t resist. 

“So, Coulson, you find what you were looking for at the facility? Because I’m almost expecting pursuit and arrest at this point. Nat and I are still technically AWOL from SHIELD, and now something obviously went down back there.”

"I found more than I expected," Coulson finally answered. He took a cleansing breath and then dove into his explanation. "While I was in the facility, Jarvis alerted me to a situation. He explained that as we left for Flushing, Fury and a STRIKE team entered Stark mansion and demanded Thor and Loki to join him at the facility for a chat about diplomacy. Lieutenant Jordan was forced to accompany them. This has caused a major problem for Stark’s health, not to mention possibly ruining any headway that has been made with Loki regarding an alliance. I can’t imagine Thor is too happy about this either.”

Steve frowned deeply, glancing at Natasha, reading the many emotions crossing her face. Her eyes were on Clint. “Are they still imprisoned back there?” he asked.

"No. Fury and both Asgardians had unreasonable demands, but with a little help, they’ve now agreed to certain terms in order to move forward.”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Nat questioned.

“Loki’s continued residence at the Tower is contingent on aiding Stark with a weapon’s system to protect earth from another attack. To do that, he first has to fix Stark, and apparently, the genius isn’t doing too well. You can see my concern for this plan’s stability."

Clint’s stomach churned but he didn’t answer. He knew it but wouldn’t entertain the thought. He didn’t trust himself around Loki, and while he somewhat empathized with the trickster, he in no way trusted him to be good for the sake of it. Loki could potentially turn anything to his advantage. It was amazing that Fury was able to take him into custody, unless Loki went willingly, in which case, Clint worried even more what his scheming mind was up to. 

And, it kind of pissed Clint off that Coulson hadn’t told them, that he went into the situation alone.

“What a clusterfuck,” Clint exclaimed. “And you should have alerted us to the possible threat. Things could’ve gotten ugly fast and we would’ve had no warning. That’s not how we’ve operated in the past.”

That came out way more bitter than Clint intended but the more he thought about it, the more fear crept into his heart. He could’ve lost him. Again. Loki could’ve snapped or Fury could’ve betrayed them and ordered them all shot on sight.

“You went into that situation with no backup,” he began, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. “Damn it, Phil! Is that how things are going to be from now on?"

Coulson wasn't necessarily embarrassed to do this in front of Natasha and Steve. He was more disappointed that Clint couldn't maintain his professionalism. Also, it made him feel like shit to have caused Clint this level of concern, but there was more than a grain of truth to what the archer was raving about.

“I didn’t know they were there, Barton.”

“You are just days out of a coma! We’re your team. I’m supposed to have your back. I can’t… I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s going on. For Christ’s sake, if you didn’t trust Nat or me to keep our cool, you could have at least asked Rogers to back you up. You’ve got to be careful 'cause I… Fuck. Damn it!”

Clint would not put into words what he was feeling. He knew he sounded like the overprotective significant other. But what the fuck could he do? The urge to keep Coulson safe was overwhelming. Clint looked away and stared out the window, his body tense and brows furrowed.

God, this hurt, Phil thought. He'd wanted this thing with Clint to work so desperately, but this was exactly what he feared.

He regreted having to put Barton in his place, but if he didn't do it now, what would happen when they got to Chechnya or another mission in the future? It pained Phil to think he might be cutting that delicate thread they'd begun to weave between each other and intimacy, but he had to do it for Clint’s safety.

“Agent Barton, I caution you on your tone,” he stated disapprovingly. “Do not question my wisdom in this matter. You and Agent Romanoff both have been put in a position of special trust because I believed you could handle level 7 clearance, but that has never included divulging all intelligence to you. Do not discredit yourself or my faith in you by discarding your professionalism. Is that understood?”

Shit. Clint realized he fucked up. This is exactly what Coulson was afraid of. But damn it! Clint didn’t even know the man was alive until a few days ago. 

It was too much to deal with all at once. Maybe he needed some distance. The archer took a deep breath and turned back to his handler. The traffic was again at a crawl and he managed to catch Coulson's eye.

“Understood, sir,” Clint replied with no emotion evident in his voice at all. Then he looked away.

Natasha sat in the back with her arms crossed over her chest. She was glad Clint had said something. If Natasha had piped up, she would have been decidedly less ‘diplomatic’ about it. The fact that a Loki had been mere floors below them, and they were not informed, set her on edge.

“So tell me, sir,” Natasha began sarcastically, “Are we to just blindly follow your orders? It’s obvious you don’t trust us enough to allow us to be your backup. How do I know you’ll do the same?” Then more quietly she added. “I won’t let you get him killed.”

"Agent Romanoff, you're alive today because Barton convinced me you are worthy of my trust. That trust has never wavered. When have I let you down?" Coulson asked. "Admittedly, this situation with James Barnes is sticky, but nothing compares to what we are dealing with when Loki must be managed. He is volatile and unpredictable. And know this: I had no prior indication Loki was in the facility until I was practically on top of him and Jarvis asked for my immediate assistance to bring him back to Stark Tower. Had I gone back to retrieve any or all of you for back up, it could have blown up like a powder keg and we'd be facing another temper tantrum from the temperamental Asgardian. I'll also remind you that you tried to take Loki out in the medical bay. We need him alive. He has to save Stark. I know the billionaire hasn't endeared himself to you, but he fills a necessary role in this team. So for now, Loki has to live and he has to do so at the Tower.” 

Clint looked over his shoulder into the backseat. Despite any misgivings either one of them had, the rag-tag team needed Loki. Coulson was their only chance to thrive as a cohesive team again, and without that merger, Clint would be totally lost.

“I know I just blew up, but I also know he’s right, Natasha. We wanted to be there to back him up, but we only would have made things worse. Besides, what other choice do we have? I’m in this for the long haul, you know that, and I can’t do it without you.” 

After a moment, she spoke. “Coulson, you gave me a chance when no one else would. I owe you for that, if nothing else. I just need to find my focus again. This is all beyond anything I ever expected. It’s a lot to take in. I just need to know where I fit in.”

It made Natasha extremely uncomfortable to talk about how unsettled she felt. As if the only thing holding her together at all was sheer willpower and determination. Her whole life had been turned upside down in a matter of days.

How could Coulson make them understand that the three people he most trusted were here in this car? They were the first things he'd thought about when he woke from his coma; how to make amends to all the wrongs they'd be dealt, how to give them some sense of stability in the chaos. He wanted to try to make them as whole as possible, but could one man really do that? It was an arrogant notion, really. But if he didn't try, who would?

"I was just bragging to Fury about how much help I have from each of you in maintaining the team's morale." He allowed a smile to slip and a sound of amusement. "Banner was right in some respects. We are a formula for chaos, but I'd like to think that like attracts like. Call us what you will, use whatever terminology you choose, but there are few others who can understand what it's like to be you, Natasha, even what little we can glean from what it's like to go through the things you've been through. Solitude has its purpose, I won't deny you that. But I don't think you could ever be comfortable again with the hollowness it creates inside. Your place is with us. I've never wanted to pawn you and Barton off to another handler. I like it just the way it is. We are a team and I do not want that to change."

He wasn't sure why he went soft where Natasha was concerned when he could be a major dick to Barton. Probably because he didn't have to worry about having sex with the Black Widow one night and then working a mission together the next day. With Clint, that was going to be a real concern, if this situation hadn’t just ruined that chance.

“I know you feel betrayed, like I hid the Winter Soldier project from you, but it had to be that way. Barnes wasn't ready to defect until now. Trying to take him by force would’ve been a bloodbath. We can now get him with this mission, but it was impossible to do before that. I don’t know if you’ll ever understand, but that is the truth.”

They rode the remainder of the way to Stark's Tower. He pulled into the back entrance and around to the VIP area. Jarvis must have identified them because the steel doors opened and allowed them access to the private lot and elevators.

"You've been quiet, Cap. Take your shot now, because once we step inside, it might be a little distracting and I’d rather get this resolved as best we can."

Steve understood Clint’s concerns and Coulson’s reasons for doing what he did. More than once, he’d had to make a decision as the leader of the Howling Commandos that might have ended up with one or more of their deaths. Despite his feelings for Bucky, every time he ordered his best friend into the field, Steve knew he had to stand strong and not let his emotions interfere with his choices, as painful as that turned out to be. He hoped it would be different for Coulson and Barton.

“I have been in a similar situations more times than I can count. I’ve had to order good men to their deaths, men I cared about, shared space with, huddled in trenches with as bombs rained down around us. I wanted to keep them safe. My best friend is dead because of a mission I ordered him to participate in. Well, I thought he was dead. I still can’t wrap my head around that at all. But I know Bucky would not have stayed behind, not for anything. Clint reminds me a lot of him. You three have something special, a cohesive team. Don’t let mistrust ruin it all.”

Steve jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his knee followed by brief, reassuring squeeze before it was gone. He looked over at Natasha, but she was already looking away.

“I won’t let any of you down,” Natasha replied fiercely before opening the SUV door and leaving the vehicle.

“I’m still in too,” Clint muttered to Coulson, “I just gotta work some things out in my head.” 

He exited the vehicle, feeling distinctly uncomfortable that he’d broken his promise to Coulson so quickly of being able to keep his feelings in check while on the job. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration as he got his bag out of the back. Just what the hell did Coulson expect? Clint was not some unfeeling asshole that could turn his emotions on and off.

But what had changed really? Clint had cared for his handler for years. Still, he was able to do his job. He knew Coulson had feelings for him too and could send him out in the field without obviously showing any remorse.

The difference now was that Clint had lost Coulson once, and he was damned if he was going to do it again. But that still didn’t resolve their issues. It just made them easier to understand.

He needed some distance to get his head together. So he went into the Tower and up to his room, intent on thoroughly checking all his gear, a task that would take hours, giving him the space to think.

~*~

It had been an exhausting few days.

Clint looked down from his perch and watched the construction crews come and go through the lobby of Stark Tower. His time was mostly taken up trying to get his body back in peak condition. Natasha cheerfully beat the hell out of the archer every morning, followed by a large breakfast, then off to Stark’s indoor weapon testing range. Jarvis had arranged for targets of various types, to his liking.

He had to go through daily med evals too, given by the newest addition to their insane little family. Lieutenant Bobby Jordan proved to be competent, and after hearing about the fiasco at Stark’s mansion, Clint was convinced the guy had balls of steel for taking on a SHIELD STRIKE team, standing up to Fury, and everything else he’d done for them. It was amazing the amount of loyalty Stark could effortlessly charm out of his hangers on.

For all Clint had seen them, Thor and Loki might have well been ghosts. Tony was holed up in his bedroom with Bruce and the medical staff in constant attendance. The one time Clint had seen the billionaire, he could not help but stare. Tony looked ill and weak, hardly able to get out of bed at all. Not his usual manic, hyper, glib self. Seems they had Loki to thank for keeping Stark alive while Bruce and the trickster god tried to find a cure.

Natasha stayed mostly to herself, unless they were training. The few times they crossed paths, the tension could have been cut with a knife. It was up to the archer to keep an eye on his partner.

Steve tended to hover and was banned by Tony’s request from his suite - the billionaire declaring, somewhat mulishly, that he didn’t need another mother hen.

Then there was Coulson. The distance that had grown between them felt like a deep and wide chasm. His handler was polite, but the profound affection they’d begun to share seemed to be missing. Coulson was holding himself back, and Clint was not sure what to do about it. The archer knew he’d fucked up by being overprotective and questioning his handler’s judgment, particularly in front of the team. He feared Coulson didn’t trust him anymore not to jeopardize any mission they went on.

And yet, Clint was still welcome in the agent's room at night, but not into his bed. Clint knew he ought to stay in his own room, but the one time he tried, he’d been plagued with nightmares all centering around Coulson's death. Clint needed the man close, to know he was safe and alive. So if he spent his nights curled up on his handler's sofa, well who could blame him? 

Natasha called him a fool for letting things get strained. Her sage advice was to just fuck him already. The UST was giving her a migraine. But that was not going to happen any time soon or at all.

Steve had been part of Clint’s recovery progress. They even sparred together daily. The super soldier’s strength awed him at times, even though Rogers was careful not to hurt him. Watching Captain America practice with the Black Widow was a thing of beauty. Neither one held back, and Clint felt like an idiot with two left feet in comparison, that is until he picked up his bow. In that arena, Clint had no equal. Even Rogers was impressed. That had pleased the archer far more than he’d ever admit. The super soldier even asked to try it out. Clint had to smile at Steve’s enthusiasm. He’d been surprised by the draw weight and completely missed the target the first time, making him frown before his face split into a wide grin. “Teach me how to hit the damn thing.”

Cap took instruction well. Hawkeye didn’t mention how funny it was the Steve’s tongue poked out of his mouth a little the more he concentrated. Clint even hissed in sympathy when the bow string raked his arm, leaving a long red welt that healed almost instantly. How Clint would love that talent.

By the end of the archery session, Rogers could hit the target fairly accurately, and he left the range with a hearty handshake to Clint, further acknowledging the archer's uncanny ability and his respect for his undeniable skills.

Clint asked Jarvis for a copy of the lesson to show Coulson. He wanted to watch his handler fanboy over Cap a bit, even though it made him a little jealous. But, hey, anything to get Coulson to smile again.

This particular afternoon, Clint found himself at loose ends. Out of sheer boredom, he’d scaled the scaffolding in the Tower's lobby. The high perch was just what he was looking for, even though it drove the workmen nuts who were trying to paint. It was kind of amusing to climb and swing from the metal structure. Sitting at the very top, Clint reached again into his jacket pocket. He took out a drinking straw, a toothpick, and some notepad paper. The archer fashioned a projectile and with a grin let it fly.

On most days, Darcy Lewis’s job description loosely entailed her doing anything Tony Stark might require, from keeping him informed of his appointments to picking up his dry cleaning or bailing him out of jail - something Pepper said she should expect sooner than later. Today though, she was stuck at the expansive front desk in the lobby answering phones and keeping the press at bay. Tony’s little flight and crash over Manhattan hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The young assistant huffed in annoyance when she felt something strike her messily upswept hair and get stuck in the curls. She looked up and across the lobby and frowned. She thought she could also hear the muffled snickering from one of Stark’s hired goons standing guard at the doors.

“Barton!” Darcy yelled unabashedly. “Didn’t I tell you what was going to happen if you lobbed one of those at me again?” 

“That you were going to personally come up here and stick one where I would need a mirror and a pair of long tweezers to remove it.” It was entertaining to tease the young woman – she gave as good as she got -- and he didn’t take any stock in her threats. So he let fly with another. This one lodged in the deep V of Darcy’s blouse. Her cleavage was spectacular, though he’d never tell her that. She was as beautiful as the stunning vintage pin up models he’d openly admired. 

“Alright, that is it!” Darcy kicked off her heels and stalked across the lobby. She hiked up her pencil skirt and began to climb, not caring at all that she was probably flashing her panties at all the security team. At least she wore the nice lacy ones today. No one would accuse her of being a sissy, not with five older brothers, especially since she was the reigning touch football champ of her family’s annual match on Thanksgiving day. She knew how to fight dirty.

“Shit, Darcy! You’re going to break your neck. Stop!” Clint was truly alarmed when she began to climb up to him. Stark would kill him if his PA got hurt, and Coulson would not be happy with him either. Those two had bonded over their love of trashy reality TV show and their fondness for tasers, and so Coulson now had a soft spot for the keen, unflappable woman.

“I warned you!” Darcy panted as she reached the level right below Clint. "Now pay the consequences."

“Here, grab on.” Clint extended his arm and was gratified when Darcy grasped it so he could pull her up. Her grip was surprisingly strong. His seat on the top of the scaffold was precarious, and with the two of them now sitting there, it made it even more questionable.

Darcy narrowed her eyes, grabbed his ear and twisted.

Clint yelped and slapped his hand to the aching lobe. “Ow, fuck, stop it! What was that for?”

“That is for Phil. He’s moping, and I have a feeling it’s over you, although it’s kind hard to tell he’s moping. I swear that man has the best poker face. Oh the damage we could do in Vegas.” Darcy swung her legs casually back and forth into empty air, not the least bit concerned that a fall from this height onto the marble floor of the lobby would most likely break her neck.

“Why do you think he’s moping over me?” Clint, needing something to occupy his hands, pulled out another straw.

“Oh puh-leaze. With you haunting this place like someone ran over your puppy and Phil sulking, it is pretty obvious. Also, get enough vodka into a certain nurse upstairs and he gets chatty."

“Damn it, Jordan,” Clint cursed. “Okay, fine. So yeah. Coulson and I have a thing… or we did… maybe we still do. Fuck if I know. I think I messed it all up.”

“Show me how to make those straw arrows while you tell me everything. We can annoy the security team while you spill your guts.”

So as Clint showed one Darcy Lewis how to make his fun but annoying projectiles, he did talk, more than he meant to, nothing to jeopardize national security, but of things that needed a sympathetic ear.

~*~

Coulson was having a lively conversation in Stark's kitchen with Thor about "big game hunting" in Asgard. It sounded nightmarish but strangely appealing. It would be an adrenaline rush. He almost wanted to see Barton armed with an Asgardian bow, taking down a three-headed fire serpent. Thor made them sound very nasty and hard to kill: "Unless you spot them from a lofty height and have the aptitude for long range kills, they are nigh impossible to take down."

Coulson could picture Hawkeye easily making a name for himself as an expert in this field.

"Excuse me, Agent Coulson," Jarvis interrupted. "There's a situation in the lobby which requires your attention."

Phil wilted a bit internally but said, "Details?"

"It seems Ms. Lewis has taken a seat next to Agent Barton on the scaffolds in the lobby. The construction crew is concerned about her ability to get back down safely. They seem to be bantering about whose insurance will pay for any injuries she sustains."

"Excuse me," Phil said to Thor, finishing his coffee and putting it in the sink before heading toward the elevators.

"Darcy is a fine Midgardian woman," Thor mentioned.

"Are you saying that for my benefit or yours?"

"Both and neither," Thor said with a grin. "Are we not allowed to appreciate such high-spirited women?"

"We're allowed to appreciate it, just shouldn't act on it," Phil said, stepping into the car and turning to face Thor. "I work with such a beauty almost every day and it’s best to both appreciate and respect her. Making a pass would surely end in my death."

"Your loss," Thor said with a grin.

On the way down to the lobby, Coulson thought of Natasha and her hard edges. His concern for her was constant. He hung on tightly to Clint, and Natasha was an extension of him, but without Barton to anchor her to SHIELD, Phil knew she'd be a consultant at best, an enemy at worst. It didn't bear thinking about right now or he'd get another headache.

He unwrapped a stick of wintergreen gum and popped it in his mouth as the elevator descended and made his ears pop. He tossed the wadded up silver wrapper in the trashcan as he stepped out into the hallway leading from the VIP area to the main lobby. Security regarded him with admiration and looked grateful for his arrival.

He stood in front of Darcy's curved desk and peered up at the two endearing misfits. With his hands on his hips, he said, "Agent Barton, Ms. Lewis. Interesting choice of a seat for a conversation. I’d like to know your plan for climbing down safely, because I can’t see how this will end gracefully."

A small projectile that looked suspiciously like a soda straw landed neatly on top of Coulson's head. Darcy laughed delightedly and high fived the archer.

“Clint would never let me fall,” Darcy yelled down as she leaned way over.

Barton scrambled to grab the waistband of Darcy’s skirt and hauled her back. “Hang on Darce, we’re going down together. I can hear Coulson grinding his teeth from up here.”

Clint stood up and gestured for Darcy to climb onto his back. She flashed him a wide smile and arranged herself piggyback style. “Okay, ready?”

Darcy nodded and could not stifle a squeal as Clint swung out into empty air then grabbed the main scaffolding support. She watched appreciatively as Clint’s arms bulged with the effort. He swung down to the next level and continued onward. When he got within a few feet of the ground, Clint stepped off and landed lightly on his feet despite the weight on his back.

“Damn, Clint. You sure know how to show a girl a good time, but I’m afraid Thor has you beat. He can fly.” Darcy patted Clint’s brawny arm before letting go. She then aimed a mock salute at Coulson.

“Sorry for appropriating your boyfriend, Agent Coulson. But he started it and I so was going to finish it. I’ll just leave you two alone while I take my lunch break. Ciao!” Darcy scooped up her shoes, slipped them on, and grabbed her jacket. She blew Clint a kiss and exited the lobby.

Clint cleared his throat and turned fiery red at Darcy’s boyfriend comment. He sheepishly ran his hand across the back of his neck and stammered. “My excuse? I was bored too, had some time to kill. I was honing my climbing skills. Any of this sound convincing?”

"So you found a confidant in Darcy Lewis. Interesting," Coulson said, face neutral. Internally, he felt thorns of jealousy, but “boyfriend”, really? "You're moving at a different pace than me, Barton. Are you going to take an ad out in the socialite section next? Circle it with a red heart for Fury so he can't miss it?"

Coulson exhaled loudly, a show of his surly mood. Darcy Lewis. Knowing she had intel that he didn't - and on such a personal matter - it burned him.

“What? Darcy is just fun to hang around. I’ve… well, not had many friends and she is far too good at observing. SHIELD should put her on the payroll.”

Phil crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare at Barton.

"I didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. She was there and offered a sympathetic ear, okay?"

"Natasha has a sympathetic ear where you are concerned, and she's much more discreet. She'd not allow Fury to catch wind of it, which will happen once Lewis starts spreading gossip at the water cooler."

Clint sighed in frustration. 

"I don’t want to take out a fucking ad or put a bug in Fury’s ear. I just want you. I’m screwing everything up. I know I am. I’m out of my depth. You are so far out of my league it isn’t even funny. So if that messes with your world view, I’m sorry. Dumb archer here, just a SHIELD lackey. So yeah, I guess I don’t deserve any of this.” Clint hissed from between clenched teeth. The last thing they needed was an audience.

"Was that her advice to you? That you don't deserve to be in a healthy relationship?" Because if it was, Coulson was going to put Lewis down right now, quick and permanent. 

Barton was a mess, if his confession was anything to go on. Their relationship was spilling all over Stark's lobby and Coulson didn't like it at all. "Upstairs. I'm not doing this here."

He walked to the elevators. If Clint followed, so be it. This was not what he wanted for them. He'd have to use kid gloves where their personal relationship was concerned. That on top of everything else - Loki, Barnes, Fury, Stark dying - it was becoming overwhelming. He was going to have to call in some favors.

Part of Clint wanted to turn and run the other way. His life was so much easier when the only person he had to care about was himself. But he didn’t want to go back to being alone. He’d do anything to fix what he’d screwed up. So the archer merely nodded and followed Coulson to the elevator, fidgeting nervously as they ascended to the VIP floor and their rooms.

Phil stepped out onto the residential floors and entered the large room he claimed for himself. He held the door open for Clint and shut it once the archer was inside.

"Have a seat," he said, motioning towards the couch in the sitting room, the one Clint slept on each night.

He flopped down on the sofa sprawling out on over half of the available surface. Clint tried for a nonchalant pose but he knew Coulson could read his body language like a book. The archer was distinctly uncomfortable, and he realized going to Darcy Lewis for relationship advice was probably not the wisest thing he’d ever done.

Phil turned on the television and found ESPN before heading to the small wine fridge. It was stocked with a couple of bottles of vintage wine Stark had gifted to him and his favorite beer. He selected one for himself and another for Barton and shut the door with his knee. Twisting the tops off, he flung them both at the trash bin. One made it in, the other bounced off the rim and rolled under a chair. He sighed over it, knowing Clint would've hit it with both.

The senior agent sat down a comfortable distance away from his subordinate, handing him the ice cold beer. There was so much to be said. A lifetime might not be enough for all the things he wanted to tell Clint - about Loki, about SHIELD, about Fury and even his time freeloading on the Tesseract's energy. He wanted to ask Clint about those things too - what it was really like to work along side of Loki, to wonder how to recover from such a mind fuck, and if some part of him wanted to go back to that way of living. It wasn't that far removed from what Clint did for SHIELD. He was damn good at everything he put his mind to and aimed at. The difference was who Clint chose to work with.

What Coulson really wanted to know was what Clint wanted out of his future. It sounded like he wanted Coulson it in, but how that would come to pass was another dilemma, something they could touch on again after this mission.

Barton had yet to ask about fleshing out his role in the upcoming assignment to Chechnya, something Coulson was grateful for. He'd asked Clint to separate professional from personal, but the closer it came to mission day, the harder it became for Coulson himself to distinguish those feelings from each other.

So much to talk about, but instead, Phil said, "We're just going to sit here and watch sports. Okay? Can you do that for me?"

“Yeah sure.” Clint took a long drink out of his beer bottle. He thought a little on what Coulson said downstairs. It stunned the archer when he came to a realization. Coulson was jealous? That couldn’t be right. No one got jealous over Clint Barton.

After mulling it over, he decided to test that little theory. Well, if Clint was going to be honest with himself, he was going to be a real dick.

Clint turned his head towards Coulson and leered. “So, Lewis has a nice set of legs on her. That skirt really showed ‘em off. Got a pretty good view as she climbed up too,” he stated casually.

"Funny you should say that," Coulson admitted, setting his beer down after a long pull. "Thor said almost the same thing before I was asked to come retrieve you from the lobby."

Phil sat forward on the couch, reaching for the remote. He surfed the channels and tried to get the image of Darcy Lewis pressed against Clint out of his mind. After a few moments, he settled on a hockey game and tossed the remote back on the coffee table. He angled his body towards Clint.

"There are many things you are good at, Barton. This form of seduction isn't one of them, particularly when you try to bait me like this.”

Clint forced himself to swallow his swig of beer and face Coulson as he spoke.

"In the lobby, you told me you wanted me. Up here, you're all about Miss Lewis' legs. If you want to know what I think about something, then ask me, Clint, don't try me. You've never hesitated before. It's one of the characteristics I like most about you. But because things are changing between us, you're acting unpredictably, and I don't like that."

Clint slammed back the rest of his beer and set the bottle down on the table with a sharp click. He ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, I get it. I was an ass. It’s just that I have no freaking clue what I’m doing. If I just wanted to fuck you, it would be different. You wouldn’t know what hit you. I’d have you out of your clothes and up against the wall with your dick in my mouth, but I don’t want that. I mean that’s not all I want. I try not to screw things up and it all goes to shit anyway.”

I’d have you out of your clothes and up against the wall with your dick in my mouth. 

Phil's mind actually sizzled and shorted out at that confession. He wasn't expecting it. As stated before, Clint was acting unpredictably. The archer rarely had a filter on his mouth, but it was the raw sexual imagery conjured by his words that threw the agent completely for a loop.

He had to stand up and pace, force himself to tune back into what Clint was trying to convey to him. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. The least Coulson could do was pay attention when Clint was divulging such vulnerabilities to him. 

"You’ve always been there for me, sir, despite being labeled as a troublemaker. You’ve gone to bat for me, stayed on the coms, and made the right call. I guess I still need to follow your lead. Tell me what to do here, Phil, because I want this. I want this so fucking badly.”

Coulson exhaled laboriously. This was the Clint he wanted. This soul-bearing honest man. And he still couldn't get the thought of oral sex to clear out of his mind.

"I want this too," he confessed, hoping that his heart would take over where his body was so very weak. "And given time, I think we can make it work. But I don't want you discussing us with the Darcy Lewis' of the world right now. This, whatever is developing between us, is too precious to me. I'm not willing to share it yet with anyone but you. We don't even have a handle on it yet, so don't go giving pieces of it to someone else. Does that request make sense to you?"

“I understand. Makes sense, but I have not exactly been discreet with my feelings. I thought… when I thought you were dead, it didn’t take a genius to figure out how I felt.”

Clint was making this excruciatingly hard. This kind of honesty was such a turn on to Phil. And how could he explain that he wanted to be privy to every thought and emotion Clint was experiencing and not sound like a complete psycho? He couldn't. There was no way, because Barton was his own person, and trying to have that kind of control over someone was reprehensible.

Sobered by his own inner thoughts, he sat down next to Clint.

"I need you to understand that while I preach to you about controlling your emotions and keeping your cool, the truth is, I'm finding this situation to be quite trying as well. It is affecting me in ways that could be a detriment to our upcoming mission."

He picked up his beer and gulped down half of the cold beverage.

"I think in the future, when we are more solid and know where we stand personally, it will make our professional lives that much stronger. But right now, with these first baby steps back into the world of espionage and danger, we have to be so very careful, Clint. One misstep, and it could cost someone their life. I will not accept your death on my hands, and I know you wouldn't either."

“You’re right. I know you’re right, but I guess I want it all now."

"I can relate to that," Coulson said, a smile curving his lips.

"But I can be patient, I suppose. As long as I have a shot. Well that, and getting you naked some time in the near future.”

“I see that in our future.”

Clint smiled and breathed a huge sigh of relief that he hadn’t messed everything up. 

“Alright.” The archer kicked off his boots and poked his handler in the thigh with his sock covered foot. “So tell me about the mission sir.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a little FrostIron.

Tony yawned and stretched in the huge bed that adorned his suite. He squinted in the bright light streaming in through the windows. “J, darken the windows.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Tony sighed in relief as the room dimmed. If asked, he would have to say that the last few days royally sucked. But at least he was off the IV’s and not hooked up to a bunch of machines that made Bruce and Bobby frown each time they looked at them.

Lieutenant Jordan was the only nurse allowed in Tony’s suite. He didn’t freak out and grope for a weapon when Loki turned a sharp tongue on him. The young med specialist also didn’t seem to mind that Loki, exhausted after a healing session, could be found in the billionaire’s bed. It wasn't like they were seeing much action there. Tony didn’t feel up to doing much else besides sleep, and according to Bruce, there was to be no excitement, no exertion on Tony’s part at all, and no stimulants, which left out all the important stuff like sex and his life-giving coffee.

Tony also had to make sure he ate healthy food, like oatmeal for breakfast. Steve brought some to Tony yesterday morning on a tray with a few pieces of toast and a glass of milk. Tony looked upon it in horrified fascination and asked where the bacon was. Steve frowned and informed the billionaire that he was to eat every bite or he’d tell Bruce, which would mean another round on intravenous nutrition.

Given that threat, Tony officially banned Steve from the suite. For the sake of science, he ate his breakfast and privately admitted it wasn’t half bad. The oatmeal had cinnamon and brown sugar on it and was not mushy like the instant kind. He found he did feel better, so the experiment was worth the effort.

But Steve as a mother hen, that needed to stop. Loki seemed content to do that task by hovering from a distance. He obviously knew what it felt like to suffer but want to maintain one's pride, so he was always nearby and cautious but rarely pushy.

Tony still wasn't sure how Loki had been able to escape Fury’s nefarious clutches. Something about Coulson's team, lots of promises about the future, and a mention of a future magically-enchanted nuclear deterrent.

Tony was told they'd talk about it later when he was better. He didn't force it. One crisis at a time.

It was also a huge relief to find out that everyone had not been involved in some grand plan to fuck Tony Stark over. Howard's base underneath the Expo was a true shocker. He had already added up back rent and told Jarvis to send Fury an invoice.

The paranoia was part of the insidious nature of the poison according to Loki. It explained how horribly betrayed Tony had felt, but now things were quieting back down.

It seemed that they still were struggling to find their footing as a team, but the fact that they were all back at the Tower now had to mean something was working.

At least Tony wasn’t alone.

As soon as Tony was able, he was installing Jarvis in the mansion as well. Never again would he be this unprepared. He was a very public target now and would prefer to be ready for any eventuality. Tony inwardly groaned at the amount of work it would take to upgrade the mansion and all the fiber optic cables and wiring he’d have to run, but the alternative was not an option.

The billionaire sighed and looked over at the other side of the bed. He could see the indentation in the pillow from Loki’s head. Tony reached over, and the spot was still slightly warm. He was a little annoyed that Loki hadn’t woken him before leaving.

He threw back the covers and sat up, waiting for the world to stabilize again. Despite the attempts at healing, there were still annoying symptoms. Dizziness, nausea and headaches continued to plague Tony. The ever present rash on his arm, now almost to his shoulder, was a mere annoyance compared to the others. He really hated to think how he’d feel without Loki’s aid.

He disliked how Loki was draining himself on Tony's behalf. He knew that the trickster was basically being threatened by the others to help Stark or else, but Tony also knew that if Loki didn’t want to genuinely aid in his recovery, then nothing on this earth would make Loki do so. If the God of Chaos had not been expending nearly all of his magical energy, he could have easily fled the Tower and blended into earth's population.

As he walked into the bathroom, Tony had to wonder where Loki had disappeared to. The most likely choices were the kitchen or the library. While not as ornate as the study at the mansion, the library at the tower was more high tech - chrome and leather furniture with steel and chrome bookcases - but it was still a library, which happened to be one of Loki's favorite haunts.

It contained several smart screens and computer access terminals with what had to most if not all of the books in digital format. It completely amused the billionaire to see Loki pecking away at a StarkTablet. The Asgardian claimed it was ancient tech compared to what he was used to, but it still made Tony chuckle. Loki had a huge golden-horned helmet as part of his body armor, but he knew how to manipulate holographic images with ease. The contrast was perpetually entertaining.

Tony stripped then took a piss, extremely grateful that he was able to do it himself and not have to use that dreaded bottle. Just three days ago, Tony had been too sick to even get out of bed.

Tony had been told by Thor that Loki had drained himself into unconsciousness those first few days fighting back the poison. Then, Loki repeated the process again the third day. Tony had actually been coherent for that session.

The gentle, caressing warmth from the first time they’d shared Loki’s magic was gone. This was more like stepping out onto the surface of the sun. Loki didn’t go unconscious that time, but he was pale and shaking by the time the transfer was complete. Tony wasn’t sure, but he thought if anyone touched him, he would have literally sparked.

Afterward, as Loki lay beside him practically dead to the world, Jarvis notified Tony of fluctuations in the arc reactor during the transfer. The AI was programmed to monitor the reactor at all times and inform Tony of any complications. Tony couldn’t be sure if this was a natural occurrence when Loki used his magic or if the trickster god was somehow tapping into the energy. Loki likened it to magic based on science and not arcana. Tony also knew that Loki somewhat coveted said device.

So he was still not sure at all how he felt about that. He dreaded the conversation he was going to have to have with Loki before his next daily dose of Asgardian mojo but it had to be done.

After a long hot shower, he knew he needed to eat, but Tony was itching to get into his workshop. He needed to calibrate the polarity on the Tower’s reactor to make it repel the Tesseract's energy. He would not feel absolutely safe until he did.

Now clothed with feet in cozy Sherpa slippers, he made his way to the workshop instead of the kitchen.

He instructed his bots to make him a wheat grass smoothie, which he hoped would appease Bruce. Hey, it was green and healthy and had no alcohol. See, he was making better choiceso.

“J, bring up the tower’s reactor schematics. First, we need to reverse the polarity of the main magnetic capacitors. I would not want to blow up the tower by missing a step here. Caution is the word of the day.”

Tony stepped close as the virtual screens came to life all around him. Soon, Tony was lost in his work as the holographic images of his creation soothed him like nothing else could.

~*~

Thor entered into the small library in the Tower looking for his brother. Loki barely had enough to feed a bird to break his fast and then had missed the lunch Darcy Lewis had provided. Thor carried with him a couple of apples, an orange, and a bunch of grapes in his hands, hoping to whet Loki's appetite with the sweet fruit. His brother had always preferred food from the soils over the saltiness of fresh meat cooked over a fire.

Thor found him in a large chaise by a window, napping in the afternoon sun. There were some who believed Loki preferred to slither through shadows and keep to darkness, now that his true heritage as a Frost Giant had been discovered. But Thor still found it perfectly normal for his brother to be lounging in the sun, seeking the warmth and basking in its light. Even as a child, he'd often find his brother curled up on a windowsill in the palace, book in hand, mind far afield.

What wasn't normal were the dark circles of fatigue under Loki's eyes and the extreme pallor of his already pale skin.

Thor pulled another chair close and sat facing his brother. There were no books strewn about, as would be typical. Loki must have come here for more rest, not entertainment or research. This was alarming.

Thor knew Loki's concerns about being solely responsible for keeping Tony Stark alive. Dr. Banner was working tirelessly as well to discover some Midgardian cure, but in the back of Thor's mind, he knew it was in vain. This was Asgardian in origin and must be cured with an equivalent but alternate element.

He put the fruit on the small round table beside Loki's chair, encouraging his brother would wake with more of an appetite than he'd shown all day. Their metabolism didn't need sustenance as often as a Midgardian, but food would help strengthen Loki so he could continue to provide what healing he could for Tony Stark.

"This isn't going to work," Loki said groggily, eyes still closed.

Thor raised a brow at his listless brother. He could guess at the subject matter, but he did not want to face it right now.

"It certainly is. You bite down, chew, and swallow. I refuse to feed you as if you are a baby bird," he joked, picking up one of the apples and ripping a big chunk of its meat out with his teeth.

Loki was more likely to eat with someone. If left alone, he'd likely ignore the urge entirely. Thor looked at the fruit in his hand, studying it. "Things on Midgard are so tiny."

"Unlike their egos," Loki replied, thinking of Stark. With thoughts of the human's self-admiration came a fondness born from his own sentiment towards Stark, and that just led to an enormous amount of anxiety.

Loki stretched his body for distraction and opened his bleary green eyes, content to watch Thor tear at the apple. They’d shared few moments like this lately, completely at ease with each other’s company. After a few bites, Loki said, "Didn't you bring that for me?"

"Yes, but you aren't eating it, are you?" Thor tried to hand him the other apple, but Loki shook his head, so Thor reached for the grapes instead, dangling them like a toy in front of his brother. Loki took the offered fruit, using one hand to sit more upright and the other to grab the fruit.

Thor noticed that he moved slow, like an old man whose joints ached with rust and disuse.

"Did you wash them," Loki asked, inspecting the bundle of fat purple berries. "They poison their fruit here. They call the chemicals 'preservatives.' Did you know that?"

Thor nodded his head and popped half the apple core into his mouth, chewing noisily. "It cannot hurt us. I've seen you eat hundreds of these already," he said, pointing to the grapes. He reached for one but Loki selfishly pulled the bunch away quickly. Thor grinned, glad to see Loki returning to himself.

They ate in silence. When Thor was finished, he grabbed the orange and began to peel it. Even to them, the rind was bitter and unpalatable.

"This is just like Brazaff."

"Do not say that, Loki."

"It is, and you know it."

Thor cleaned the orange peels off the upholstery with one frustrated sweep of his hand. He leaned back in his chair, discarding the juicy fruit on the table, appetite now lost. Thor let his head fall back against the cushion and closed his eyes.

The memories of Volstagg's youngest brother, Brazaff, came rushing back in distinct clarity:

In their youth, they'd made their way home after one of their first unescorted hunting trips, with only Volstagg as chaperone of their small party.

Late in the day, they'd stumbled upon a village in the northern mountains. It was under attack by firedrakes. Thor and the party had done as much as they could to save the few villagers who remained alive, but during the battle, Brazaff was grievously injured. Their horses were slaughtered and they'd all sustained terrible burns and wounds. It wasn't until it started to rain heavily that the firedrakes finally fled.

Thor, Hogun and Volstagg had painstakingly hauled Brazaff up the mountain towards the peak. The young warrior bled as they navigated the slippery and muddy terrain.

Loki did all he could to try to stifle the blood flow to allow time to get to the healers in the palace, but Brazaff's limb had been severed. The wound was too great for Loki's unrefined skills at healing magic.

The young prince exhausted himself halfway up the mountain. Hogun had to stay by Loki's side until he regained consciousness and then he could help Loki way back down to the ravaged village.

It hindered Brazaff's chance of survival even more to lose what little efforts Loki could put forth.

Through the relentless storm, Thor and Volstagg finally reached the peak of the mountaintop. The great eagle there demanded payment to take the wounded warrior to the palace. Volstagg offered the only thing he had, which was his family's legacy, a sword renowned for its strength in battle.

The ancient eagle accepted the sword and allowed both young Thor and Brazaff to mount his back. They flew off into angry sky, leaving Volstagg alone, without a weapon, and in great suffering over the fate of his little brother.

Brazaff was dead before the eagle's talons set down less than a quarter of an hour later.

When Thor returned later with Odin and palace guards, he saw all that remained of the village were the charred bones of a once humble but thriving township. His friends were injured and grieving and Loki was delirious with fatigue.

The youngest prince spent the next several weeks under the watchful eye of Frigga's personal healer. Loki needed no lecture from his mother of the toll untrained magics would take upon a novice user, but he got many, and so did Thor.

They sacrificed so much that day and had entirely lost to fate. It seemed there was no good that came from it, save for Odin sending an experienced party to slaughter the firedrakes in their nest.

It was a lesson in tragedy, and Thor did not wish to suffer such misfortune again.

"You know this is not my specialty," Loki proclaimed. "Were we in Asgard, everyone would agree with me."

"But we are not in Asgard. You must find a way."

"What do you expect from me," Loki questioned. He sat upright, leaning towards Thor aggressively. "I have nothing here to aid me. Their herbs are strange and nearly powerless. I have no stones or crystals or glyphs for me to draw from to give to Stark. As it is, I have resorted to using the energy from his arc reactor and trying to convert that for my use, but it will only last for as long as he allows."

Thor frowned, confused on how Loki was taking something from Stark only to give it back to him, but part of him understood Loki's point. "You cannot give what you do not first have yourself."

"Exactly. I try to draw from everything around me: the electricity in the building, the static in the air, the radiation from the sun. I must transform that into healing magic, but it isn't enough to cure him, only to suppress his symptoms," Loki confirmed. He shook his head in resignation, his blunt honesty revealing his distress.

"So much of it is lost in the transfer, Thor. I can feel the power build in me but I cannot seem to let its grace pass through me to him. It bleeds out somewhere between me and Stark. He only gets a fraction of what I can convert. The rest is lost and I am left with less than I started with. It is like pouring wine through a pinhole and expecting it to fill an entire glass. It is futile, Thor."

He could sense his brother's frustration. Loki had no reluctance in admitting a weaker talent, but in this matter, when this particular skill was so desperately needed, this deficiency was crushing.

"What about a spell? You are infinitely skilled at those."

"I could cast, but in this matter, it would be complicated. The scrolls I need are out of reach while we're here on Midgard. There is even a charm with immortality as an aftereffect that could possibly work, but I haven't the elixirs and runes I'd need to cast it. There's also a curse that could suspend his form indefinitely as is, but I assume Stark would not want to be inanimate and basically frozen in time until this is resolved.”

Thor pulled a face.

"And I'd have to send you all over the Nine Realms to gather things for me to perform any of those,” Loki admitted. “That is simply impossible without the Bifrost, as I am too weak to create a dark portal right now."

Thor's attention was called to the dynamic potential within Loki to do both extraordinary and dreadful things. It was fitting to both revere and respect him for his arcane skills. There were many in the Nine who feared his brother, and at times like this, he was reminded of why.

Loki sighed heavily and reclined again, flinging an arm over his eyes where the sun wasn't as welcome now. "His fate seems inevitable, as does ours."

"Do not say that. We must find a way. That is all there is, our only focus."

"Then tell me, will you use the Bifrost to return home with a list of things I need and gather them for me? All of Asgard will know when you come and go, so our purpose of stealth will be ruined. Do you think that will help Stark?"

Thor ignored the sarcasm apparent. "Our mother told me she found you in your dreams while you were the Void. She said that she spoke with you in your moments of unconsciousness."

"Yes," Loki confirmed. "And your point?"

"If you can speak with her again, tell her what you need, perhaps she can send aid."

"No," Loki said, standing up from the chaise and making to leave the library. "I will not involve her again in this madness. And again, you would have her call upon Karnilla to open another dark portal. It is I who will have to repay those debts. You do not want to know what Karnilla will ask of me."

"Perhaps so, but you must do something, Loki. Need I remind you that our mother and myself are both linked to your success at redemption here on Midgard."

"I am doing something!" Loki yelled, fisting Thor's shirt in his hands.

He older brother allowed it, this show of protest, because the tantrum gave insight to Loki's mind.

"I give and give and give until I have no more of me left. You are just like everyone else, making demands of me, causing me harm, and then wondering why my life force is weak. You take from me and still expect more."

"Do you speak of the Chitauri?" Thor asked, his voice softened with concern. "Do they still cloud your mind, brother?"

"I speak of all of you," Loki shouted. He stepped away, angered by the tremble he felt in his hands. "And it plagues my mind, this considerable burden you've placed upon me with our mother tied to this outcome. I have yet to forgive you for it."

Thor straightened his shirt when Loki turned to walk away. He reached for his brother's arm, gently halting his progress. "Forgive me or not, brother, as I said before, this burden is all there is. I will help you in any way I can with all that I am, but you must discover the solution to this and soon."

Loki tore his arm out of Thor's grasp. “Leave me alone.”

Thor allowed his brother to walk away, knowing Loki was done with any conversation for now. Thor had his say and offered himself in any manner that actually would be of help, but at this time, it was best to let Loki ponder these things on his own.

And by the gods, Thor prayed this didn't result in the same tragedy as Brazaff.

~*~

Loki made his way back to the Tony's suite but found the bed empty. He had a mind to crawl back in between the soft bedding but his mind would find no rest there. Would he find Frigga waiting? Thor's idea had some merit, but it was reaching beyond acceptable limits, involving her yet again.

So Loki wandered down the steps that led to the workshop. There, he found Stark surrounded by images of light hanging in the air. The man looked completely in his element, his eyes scanning the data, fingers typing commands on the screens, hands reaching for equipment, and invariably, for the one of the coffee mugs strewn about the workshop.

Loki sat and then reclined, propping himself up with an elbow against the stairs. Stark was clearly unwell, but he appeared better than days before. He could stand and function without falling over, so Loki would term that as a substantial improvement. He'd have to draw Banner's attention to that while it lasted to get some credit for his hard work.

After his argument with Thor, Loki was content just to watch. He knew as soon as either of them opened their mouths, there would be discussions about things that would inevitably cause turmoil, just as it had with Thor.

So he stayed quiet and observed the man he'd come to know closely through sex and then intimately through magic. At least in those aspects, they got along famously. It was also easy enough when Stark was unconscious, but that became irritating. He wanted intelligent and intriguing conversation with Stark. The man had ideas, some of them outlandish and ridiculous, but all of them astute and promising.

If things were different, Loki could actually imagine taking Stark from Midgard and keeping him for a decade or two, traveling the Nine with him, expanding his mind, revealing secrets that Midgard had yet to discover about the universe. But that was not meant to be. Still, the thought was appealing. Odd that he had criticized Thor for wanting to do the same with Jane.

 

Tony grabbed his cup and took a long drink then frowned. The coffee he was not supposed to drink had long gone cold. It was distinctly odd to work while the room was relatively quiet. His usual ear-blasting classic rock absent since now it gave him a headache. Most things did now. In fact, he currently had one. The engineer could feel fatigue creeping around his usually caffeine-bolstered defenses.

Barely a week since he’d been poisoned, but it felt like a lifetime.

Tony was aware also that he had a visitor. That was rare. Usually, his workshop was restricted space with unlimited access granted to a few trusted friends. If anyone told him that Loki would be one of those on that list, he would have been first in line to hand out the straightjacket.

The trickster was the only thing keeping Tony alive. He was in turns grateful and extremely pissed off. Tony hated being beholden to anyone. But Loki had the potential to hurt the billionaire, leave him for dead, but Loki stayed.

Tony knew how he felt about Loki but had yet to figure out if those feelings were in the least bit reciprocated. Besides, talking about feelings usually gave Tony hives, and he had enough of those with the poison.

With acknowledgment from Jarvis, his task was finished. The Tower’s arc reactor would no longer be vulnerable to the Tesseract’s influence. The blue alien entity would never power another portal ever again from this property.

Tony took a deep breath, straightened up, and tried to massage the kink out of his lower back. He was tired and his head ached. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed but there was still so much to do. With a wave of his hand, the Tower’s reactor schematics disappeared.

“J, bring up the specs on mark XLII. I need to get the propulsion ratio calibrated.” Tony rubbed his forehead and squinted.

“As you wish, sir.” Jarvis replied and the asked for holograms winked into existence.

After a few minutes, Tony had the boot jet assembly spread out on his workbench. He ran his calculations and did a test fire. The repulsor briefly glowed blue, then flamed into blinding white.

“Sir, the energy induction grid is overheating,” Jarvis warned.

“Fuck! Shut it down!” Tony hastily pulled his hands away as the left boot jet melted into a puddle of slag.

Tony glanced at the readout as Dummy blasted the mess with a fire extinguisher. Damn. His calculations had been off, way off. It’s a wonder he didn’t blow up the whole Tower earlier.

Tony was tired. He couldn’t think anymore and was thoroughly disgusted with himself. He was done. He was so fucking done.

In a fit of pique, he threw his socket wrench across the room, inadvertently taking out the coffee maker.

“Well, isn’t that just fucking perfect. Someone up there must have heard Bruce say no caffeine."

Tony glanced at the stairs when quiet laughter came from Loki's direction. "Enjoy the show?”

“Your method of work was commendable until a few moments ago.” Loki knew temporary defeat. He knew the sting of it, but he expected Stark to recover quickly. This wasn't the first time the engineer had met adversity. The stories he'd told had confirmed that, so he wasn't concerned in the least."That anomaly was not unlike what I went through the first time I touched your arc reactor."

"Yeah, about that, tapping into the reactor. I think we need to have a little chat," he explained, crooking his finger at Loki. Tony stalked across the workshop and collapsed on the large scruffy sofa in front of the huge bank of windows. “I’m tired, you’re tired, so c’mere.”

Loki exhaled loudly. In his own time, he eventually wandered over to the couch and stalked behind it. He finally made his way around one end of the furniture to perch on the arm. He wasn't in the mood for another lecture, but he had predicted this one would come to pass. Best to get it over with.

"Since I am your guest in your house, speak your mind," he preempted, turning green eyes on Tony. "Then I will have my say."

“It’s not enough is it? Your magic isn’t enough to stop the poison. That’s why you need this,” Tony said, tapping the disc shining through his shirt.

Loki expected threats and more warnings about what the Avengers would do if Loki was caught tapping into his arc reactor's energy again. He expected Thor and Banner to be involved and for this to turn into another reason not to trust in Loki's intentions. So it threw him a little to hear such a humble question from the man.

But what else could he expect from an intelligent individual? He had figured it out.

So now Loki was left with how to answer. He could tell the truth, but if he did that, he'd have little use left in Stark's life. He could lie and say that as he grew stronger, so would his ability to heal Tony, that it was the man's fault for pushing too hard when Loki had warned him to stay as calm and quiet as possible.

Loki slid from the arm of the chair onto the cushion, staring out at the vast city of steel and cement that created their vista until he finally spoke:

"Since I left Midgard after the invasion, I have been kept on the brink of collapse or even death. I have given you what I have, Stark, and have agreed to continue to do so to maintain your health to the best of my abilities. At times, there is very little of my magic to tap into, so I borrow from your reactor. Is that so terrible? It is for a just cause, wouldn't you say?"

“A very just cause, seeing as it’s my life. You could have easily killed me. Refused to help, and I would have died anyway. But why the fascination with arc reactor energy?"

"You really have no idea, do you?" Loki asked. He thought of Stark as Midgard's royalty, but the more he listened, the more he realized that Stark never really coveted power, not like a true prince would. He didn't have any inclination to rule, therefore, he had no need for real power, the kind that you wielded over others to bend their will to yours, to preserve the peace, to fight the battles and take back what was rightfully yours. Stark obviously sought the fame and the accolades that came with his contribution to society, but beyond that, perhaps Loki had been wrong about the man's intentions. He was utterly fascinating.

"Were that I could, I would like to take you to Asgard, Tony Stark, but I am not allowed such luxuries, am I?" He looked down at his hands. “At times, I wonder if I will ever feel magic full return to me.”

Tony looked over at Loki, wishing he could understand what was going through the trickster's mind. He always seemed so burdened by the weight of everything he’d been made to endure. Things that would have broken anyone else. Things that had broken him.

"Would you go," Loki asked tentatively. "If I asked you to come with me?"

"Would I go with you?” Tony repeated, eyes wide, smile growing quickly. “To another realm where magic is the science they practice? In a fucking heartbeat. If only to tell your adopted father what a giant dick I think he is.”

That drew a chuckle from Loki. He sunk deeper into the soft couch and tilted his head towards Stark. "I'm beginning to enjoy your company."

“Good,” Tony replied. “And I will admit to being ridiculously attracted to you. I haven’t always been too rational where my heart is concerned. Case in point: I’m infatuated with a fugitive god with a frighteningly brilliant mind and a gorgeous physique who I depend on right now for my very life.”

“Yet, you are warning me off.”

“Well, yes. The fact that you can use the reactor’s energy scares the crap out of me. I’ve grown kinda attached to it. You know?”

“I can imagine,” Loki admitted. Kindness, praise, desire, compassion; Stark seemed the only source for these things now, and Loki was becoming exceedingly drawn to him. He knew this Midgardian could become his weakness, that he already had. It was unsettling and made him sympathize where before, there was complete apathy. “Survival instincts are usually strongest in those closest to death.”

"Yeah, well, Pepper never wanted to touch it at all," Tony continued. "Once, she had to help me switch it out. She was disgusted by the whole thing. And I don’t blame her at all. I’m scarred and freaky, but this fancy night light taking up way too room in my chest is keeping all that nasty shrapnel away from my heart. So protective of it? Yeah, I am. I know it’s not exactly a big turn on for any bed partner, but it's all I got to offer anymore.”

Loki frowned, listening to the billionaire talk about others in his bed. He found he didn't like the thought of that. He'd claimed Stark for himself and intended, for all purposes, to retain his interests.

They shared a look that spoke beyond words. It was hesitant and desperate all at once.

Loki advanced then, crawling across the small space between them and forcing the man onto his back, pinning him down with his body.

"I am not just any bed partner, Tony Stark.” Loki glanced down at the blue glow of the reactor and then flicked up to meet wide brown eyes. "I have seen races and beings that your mind cannot begin to imagine. I am drawn to many forms, shapes, and colors. So do not presume to tell me what I do and do not find attractive. I would instead, let my actions speak for themselves."

Loki rolled his hips into Tony's and bent to gently lick his neck from collarbone to behind his ear.

Tony really wanted to know when he’d become such a submissive bottom. There was just something about Loki that made him want to let go, give in, to surrender. To forget everything that filled his mind and just feel. He tilted his head back to give the trickster more access and groaned.

Loki was a delicious weight on his body, solid and pressing against Tony in all the right places. God, he was so warm, chasing away the chill that never seemed to leave his body. “By all means, don’t let me stop you.”

Loki didn't intend to stop. When he wanted something, he would find a way to get it. He wasn't interested in taking without permission. There was no pleasure in that. Instead, he'd coax and seduce and persuade until he obtained his desire. There wasn't much persuasion needed with Stark. That was the beauty of this budding relationship. What Loki wanted right now was that sense of connection, to be given pleasure willingly and be appreciated for returning the effort.

It would be inconsiderate to ignore the fact that the Midgardian was ill, but Loki could be compassionate. He embraced the art of seduction. It was a skill one never tired of practicing. He was beginning to enjoy enticing Stark, hearing his reaction to caresses, feeling him react to teeth and tongue and touch.

Loki ignored the hint of poison on the man's lips, the taste of it on his skin. He was used to it. It wasn't enough to harm him, but he was aware of it.

He was perplexed at his level of concern over this. It grew stronger each day as his connection to Stark grew deeper. But he pushed it aside for now and concentrated instead on the physical elements of this tryst, the pleasure he sought and could give.

It surprised Tony that the trickster had such a tender side. He eagerly reciprocated, totally wrapped up in a sensual haze. Loki offered languid kisses and slow, soft caresses that soothed as much as they inflamed.

It was more than that, though. Tony was content, so fucking content.

He was more than happy to hand over control this time, anything to calm the chaos that was always in his head. He also knew it was screwed up and insane, but giving control over to Loki seemed like something he waited his whole life to do. He needed this. So very badly.

Tony pulled his mouth away from Loki’s then gasped as the trickster left sharp biting kisses along his neck and jaw line. His hands fisted in the back of Loki’s shirt as he opened his thighs, letting the god settle firmly between them.

Tony knew he was not going to be up for full-on rip-the-sheets kind of sex. And wasn’t that a real tragedy, but this slow, sensual pleasure was fine. More than fine. It was intoxicating. He groaned as Loki did a slow grind against him.

“Tell me you can fix this," Tony begged, gasping and pulling Loki’s hips closer. "Tell me I’m not going to die.”

Loki's brain skidded to a halt, his body following suit. He was not taken by surprise often, but now, as he gazed down at the man lying underneath him, Loki found himself confounded.

Stark was utterly vulnerable, unguarded and defenseless. It would be so easy to hurt him in many ways. He was completely at Loki's mercy, and that could quickly become a thrilling addiction.

But what Stark wanted most was to hear Loki confess that he could work a miracle. And wasn't that what mortals believed gods could do?

Laying here, breathing the man's breath as his own, staring into his eyes, Loki felt something shift within him.

And there it was. This intense gaze between them, sending heat skittering along his nerve endings and pangs straight to his heart, he could no longer ignore the truth.

Before this moment, Loki was only interested in saving Stark as a means to his redemption. It would save Frigga, even Thor, from punishment if he fell short of atonement. But something had just changed and he found himself wanting to save Stark for unselfish reasons.

He hadn't felt this way in many years, this desire to completely occupy someone's heart and mind, and to be eagerly invited and accepted there.

It was heady and thrilling and full of peril.

"Believe in me, Stark," he reassured, ghosting his lips over the man's forehead before holding his gaze again. "I will not forsake you."

The words that Loki uttered in his smoky, whiskey-smooth voice were just what Tony wanted to hear. Reassurance that Loki would do everything in his power to keep him alive. Tony had no choice but to believe, because right here, right now, Loki was all he had to cling to. “I trust you.”

Loki’s mouth devoured Tony’s, and he opened willingly to the onslaught. What had started out sweet and gentle rapidly turned passionate, tinged with a hint of desperation. Tony fumbled with the button to Loki’s trousers. He wanted to feel the warm solid weight of Loki in his hand. He wanted to make the God of Chaos moan.

Tony slipped his hand inside the expensive linen and palmed Loki’s erection. He dragged his fingers over the tip and lightly raked his thumbnail over the sensitive slit. Tony grinned into the kiss as Loki hissed at the sensation. He was rewarded by a sharp nip to his lower lip.

The billionaire gripped Loki and slid his hand slowly down the trickster’s hard length, twisting his grip on the up stroke. Tony lifted his hand, and with Loki watching his every move, he licked his palm then returned it to Loki’s shaft.

Tony arched against Loki and groaned his encouragement as Loki’s deft fingers opened Tony’s jeans and shoved them downwards. Now free of the confining material, Loki’s hand covered Tony’s, as he fisted them both, their erections ground together. Pre-cum and saliva made them slide freely but with enough friction to cause Tony’s vision to white out.

Loki rolled his hips. Tony’s other hand gripped Loki’s ass tightly bringing him even closer as Tony gasped. The trickster ran his hand slowly up the side of Tony’s neck and cupped his jaw, teeth nibbling at Tony’s lips and tongue licking at the seam of Tony’s mouth. Loki dipped his tongue inside and sealed his mouth to Tony’s, swallowing every gasp and moan as their hands worked together to bring them to completion.

Fingers entwined, breath mingled, and hips arched into their combined grip.

“Fuck! I want more,” Tony groaned throwing his head back as Loki licked and nuzzled the side of his neck. With Loki’s hand surrounding his, Tony was at the mercy of Loki’s tortuously slow pace. Loki guided their pleasure, and despite wanting Loki lose control, Tony didn’t mind at all. He was more than willing to let the god drive, because, holy fuck, Loki applied just the right pressure and friction with a wicked little twist to drive Tony slowly out of his mind.

Tony wanted to wrap his legs around Loki’s waist, but his half pulled down jeans made that impossible. Still, having a mostly clothed Loki on top of him was such a turn on. Tony moaned again and bucked his hips. He was close, so damned close.

Loki shoved Tony’s shirt collar to one side and mouthed his neck, sucking hard. Tony felt the pull straight down to his cock. He’d have quite the reminder of their session on this couch, especially after he moaned at the scrape of Loki’s teeth, which urged Loki to mark him again.

Loki stilled their joined hands and Tony wanted to scream. He was shuddering right on the edge of coming like a freight train, and then Loki fucking stopped. Taking pleasure in that even the trickster was gasping, sweat beading on his forehead. He too was struggling on the edge of control.

Loki’s fingers tilted Tony’s chin, caressed the side of his face as his unwavering green gaze lingered. The billionaire could not look away even if he wanted to.

“Come for me, Stark,” Loki whispered in a low sultry voice and ground their erections together tightly.

That’s all it took. Tony came, oh god, did he come.

Shaking and crying out Loki’s name, Tony felt an answering wet pulse between them and a harsh indrawn breath. Slowly, Loki’s hips stilled after one last slow revolution.

Loki’s fingers spread the slickness between them, mingling their essence on Tony's stomach. He lifted his hand to Tony’s lips, where he greedily sucked Loki’s fingers into his mouth, tasting them both and licking the trickster's fingers clean.

With one last kiss on those talented fingertips, Tony let his hand slip free of his mouth.

“That was amazing," Tony said, after licking his lips. "You are amazing. God, I...”

In his post-coital haze, voice slurring with fatigue, Tony almost blurted out his feelings.

He blinked up at Loki. He was a hot mess. Well, they both were, but Tony's stamina was shot all to hell, and fatigue was settling in like a thick fog.

“I know it is horribly rude to nod off,” Tony said, lifting his hand to Loki’s cheek in a fond gesture. “But I can't keep my eyes open. I think you completely exhausted me.”

“I'll take that as a complement,” Loki said, kissing him softly. “I'll bring you back, Stark. I always do. Sleep now. You are safe.”

Tony nodded, pleased with the promise of protection while completely sated physically. Everything seemed beyond perfect. He wanted to tell Loki, but he passed out cold.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: In this chapter, Pepper comes to the Tower, Loki reveals his children, and the Winter Soldier is on the move. Also We love Pepper Potts. She is understandably upset by the events unfolding and voices her concerns. 
> 
> Finally this is a work of our own imaginings which is based on movie verse, and to some extent, comic verse as well. This is our adaption.

“Again, come at me again!” Natasha demanded. She was breathing heavily, covered with sweat, but crouched and ready to spring.

Steve stood across the mats from her. He shook his head. The Captain was not sure this was the best way for Agent Romanoff to work out her issues, but it was better this than a few other things Steve could think of. Besides, the super soldier healed quickly.

Natasha also insisted that Steve not hold back at all. They both winced at every solid hit he landed. “Maybe we should take a little break,” he suggested. 

Steve quickly ducked to avoid a rather nasty kick to the head. Damn, he thought, this dame has some reach on her.

Steve threw up his forearm to block a vicious backhand to his throat. Natasha was not as strong as Steve but she was incredibly fast. She tried another kick, but instead of blocking, he grabbed her ankle and threw the Black Widow across the room. She ricocheted with practiced ease off the wall and landed lightly on her feet.

Natasha ran and then slid across the mat, using a scissor kick to knock Steve off his feet. He landed heavily on his back, but before she could pin him, Steve rolled to the side. The Black Widow was on her feet in seconds. He quickly planted a knee on the mat, pivoted and caught Natasha mid leap. Steve slammed her down onto her back. Before she could get her legs up to kick him, the Captain straddled her and held her legs down with his thighs.

Natasha tried for a throat strike but Steve caught that hand and held it fast. Before she could even think of a groin shot with her other fist, the super soldier had that one grasped too. With her hands now pinned above her head Natasha tried to buck the heavier man off her.

Truthfully, Natasha hated losing. She scowled at Rogers and tried to free her hands. It was not working. He was just too strong.

But the Widow was taught to use every advantage in a fight. It was deeply ingrained into her training.

She looked at Steve through lowered lashes. Natasha took a deep breath which highlighted her chest through the thin tank top she wore. Her shrewd gaze didn’t miss the flicker of Steve’s eyes downward.

Got you, Natasha thought to herself. She pasted on a seductive smile and arched her hips into his pelvis. The assassin relaxed her body and licked her lips, noting Steve’s rapt attention.

Steve’s eyebrows raised and a bright flush stained his skin. 

Then he realized what Natasha was doing. It felt wrong. Frankly, it kind of sickened him that she had most likely been trained to use her body this way. Even worse, he could feel himself start to respond. Steve was not made of stone, and having a beautiful woman pliant underneath him was too much.

He abruptly released her.

“Stop," Steve said in a harsh voice as he quickly stood up and walked away. "Don’t do that. Just don’t."

Natasha lay there for a moment, surprised at his reaction. He appeared genuinely upset.

She gracefully got to her feet and walked to the far side of the gym. Steve was there, punishing a heavy bag with his fists.

“You’re upset at my strategy?”

“That wasn’t strategy. That was exploitation. Of you.”

“It was more exploitation of you, Rogers.” Natasha’s smile withered and died after the dismayed look he gave her. “Look, Steve, I’m not sorry. I was trained to use every means at my disposal to win a fight. You, of all people, should understand that much,” Natasha stated.

Steve stopped hitting the bag and leaned his forehead against the smooth surface. “I am not your enemy. All you had to do was ask and I would have let you go. You shouldn’t have to use those tactics. No one should. It’s not right. I didn’t mean to cause...”

“Steve, it's alright. You did nothing wrong. It was just a normal reaction to what I was doing. It was meant as a distraction. Maybe I shouldn’t have used you like that but you have to understand my training. I’m a killer. I was taught to use any method to win.”

“You shouldn’t have to, that’s all. I’d never order you use those tactics.” Steve said. “I respect you too much.”

Natasha graced the Captain with a genuine smile. “Thank you,” she simply replied then walked out of the gym.

Steve watched her walk out of the room. He shook his head and sighed heavily. He took a moment to wonder if things were different between them. What if Natasha might be interested? No, it was ridiculous. She had James, or she would again if the mission went right. James had that charm, that charisma. They’d make a wickedly attractive pair. 

There was once a time too, when Steve thought there was more than just friendship between Barnes and himself. But that was better left in the past. Besides, chances were that Bucky would not even remember him at all.

And that was a horrible thought.

Steve reared back with his clenched fist and hit the bag, grimacing at the sting in his hand. He watched the bag disintegrate with lack of concern. 

He would gladly go on this mission to rescue the Winter Soldier, but the rest of it, he just had trouble reconciling all the lost years in his mind. Steve supposed that once he laid eyes on Bucky, it would all become real, and he’d have to deal with his conflicting feelings once more. 

~*~

Natasha stopped outside the room and leaned against the wall. Steve was so unbearably naively sweet that it caused even her black heart to ache. They were both hurting. She had to wonder what would happen after they brought James home. What could any of them expect from each other?

She couldn’t reconcile “her” James being the same man who was Captain America’s best friend. And, did she still love him? That remained to be seen. There might not be anything left of her former lover to love. Thinking about that was too painful. 

But the last thing she wanted to do was hurt Steve. Natasha had to wonder if there had been more between the two soldiers than just the bond of friendship.  
A few times, when the conditioning they went through weakened and they reclaimed a missing piece of themselves, James spoke fondly of a young man he’d once known. He described hazy, indistinct memories of a face he could not recall, but the sentiment was clear. This person had been very important to James. 

Natasha now realized with certainty that the man James spoke of was none other than Steve Rogers.

She wondered what the fallout would be when the mission was complete. 

As for the mission itself, it was about time for that briefing she promised Coulson. But for right now, a blisteringly hot shower was calling her name. Everything else would have to wait.

~*~

Steve had dropped his duffle bag in one of the empty guest suites and was currently in the oversized shower. Frankly, he could get used to this particular luxury. The bathroom in his apartment had been cramped and he’d frequently banged his elbows in the small tub-shower combination.

He tried to get his tight muscles to relax, tipping his head back under the steaming hot spray. It seemed like an impossible task. Since he’d woken up from his frozen slumber, it had been a never ending shock to his system. The soldier had never felt so lost.

As much as Steve wanted to linger, his stomach let him know in no uncertain terms that it needed food now. It was one of the adjustments he needed to make after the serum. At first, it had been rather embarrassing, and Steve had frequently gone hungry. On some missions with the Howling Commandos, food had been rather scarce. As their commander, it was his job to see that his soldiers were cared for. So he’d taken just his normal ration or less. He could survive a long time on very little to eat.

When Bucky noticed this tactic, he informed the rest of the team, and suddenly there was extra slid onto his plate by one member of his team or another. A few of the Commandos were even skilled hunters. Falsworth and Barnes were very adept at charming food out of the local populace, especially the women. It had touched Steve deeply the lengths his men would go to take care of him.

It was so easy now to just go to any local grocery store and find an overabundance of food. The variety was staggering. Even wandering into the common area and kitchen in Tony’s penthouse, he always found the larder fully stocked.

With his stomach growling, Steve finished his shower, dried off, and then got dressed. He had to wonder too how Natasha was doing after their encounter in the gym. 

He entered the kitchen and began rummaging through the pantry and refrigerator, getting out all the things he needed for sandwiches. It was a quick and easy meal that took little effort. Truly, he didn’t feel like cooking at all.

~*~

Pepper Potts was an educated and intelligent woman, part of the upper echelon, even though she would never classify herself as the latter. So it was a unique situation when she found herself so flustered that she reached down and plucked her crystal-studded pointy-toe leather Jimmy Choo heels off both feet and walked briskly through the executive parking garage towards Tony’s private elevator. She stepped inside, punching the button for the living quarters with the heel of her pump.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Potts," Jarvis greeted.

"Don't you 'good afternoon' me. You're supposed to advise me if Tony is in trouble. You know what? Never mind. Rhodes is your first call. Let's keep it that way." 

"Yes ma'am."

She exhaled loudly, part in frustration and part nervousness. She did it enough times on the way up to the suites to make herself lightheaded. Her hair kept falling into her eyes because her bangs were a half an inch too long. She blamed Tony for missing her appointment with at the salon the last few weeks.

Because of the stealth her bare feet created, she was able to waltz right into the kitchen area, seeking another human, hopefully not an Asgardian, only to find Captain America making sandwiches.

It couldn’t have been more American unless he was cooking an apple pie.

“You know,” Pepper started with no pretense, putting her shoes on the cushion of a bar stool, “I’m not normally prone anxiety attacks and panic, but I’ve just come from a meeting with Rhodey, and I have to say, what’s going on here in the Tower has me completely flabbergasted, mortified even, horrified for those of us out there who have no clue what’s going on inside this building. I don’t even know where to start!”

It wasn’t very often that someone could sneak up on Captain America. But since coming to this Tower, it was happening more frequently. First Thor and now Tony Stark’s diminutive but feisty CEO and ex-girlfriend. He’d nearly dropped the overstuffed sandwich when she stormed into the room hurling questions like Natasha threw knives: deadly and straight to the point, which totally flustered the Captain. He unconsciously raised his sandwich like a shield and tried to ignore the wet plop of a tomato slice sliding out the hitting the floor.

She wiggled her hands in front of her, as if trying to materialize something. “I can’t even begin to find the proper words to convey my, my, disappointment, my confusion? I mean, I was under the impression that you were the leader of this, this exceptional team of people and that you would lead them well, because you’re Captain America, all perfect and honorable and reliable.”

Steve visibly flinched at Pepper’s assessment of his character.

Pepper paused to really look into the Captain’s blue eyes. Some of her disappointment faded but she was on a roll and had been boiling since leaving her meeting with James Rhodes.

“And I promised Rhodey I wouldn’t get involved,” she continued, wilting a little, “but my car just seemed to steer itself here because I just can’t understand this. So I have to see it for myself, this, I don’t know, this crazy idea of Tony and… and… Loki. Really?”

The fight seemed to momentarily leave her when she got to the Asgardian's name. She looked right at Steve, one hand on her hip, the other hand wadded up in a tight fist that shook with nervous energy. In a much softer, much more Pepper-esque manner, she looked back up at Rogers and pleaded with him. “Please tell me this is a nightmare and I’ll wake up and everything will be as normal as it can be around Tony.”

She knew it wasn't. She'd been fighting with the press for days now, denying stories, covering for Tony and his reckless behavior of late. When Pepper finally called Rhodey and he told her truth, she honestly suspected the colonel of punking her. But in the end, it turned out he wasn't lying about any of it.

It hurt more than she imaged, for reasons she really couldn't fully identify yet.

The whole thing reeked of typical Tony-Stark-bad-choices, but actually believing he'd get so tangled up in something that became a life and death matter? And over an alien war criminal? It was too much. She had to see it herself to believe it.

“Ah, Ms. Potts, how much do you know?” There was no way Steve was going to blurt out more than what was strictly necessary. 

"Is he," Pepper started, pushing her bangs out of her eyes in a dignified manner. She stood in her tailored business suit, ponytail revealing conservative but classy diamond earrings glinting in her ears. Her chin was held high but her voice trembled once she when said, "Just tell me if Tony's sick again. If he's as bad as it was with the palladium poisoning."

The rest of the story could wait. No matter how much her pride had taken a nose dive, and it would be of epic proportions if all this was true, what mattered most to her, even now, was Tony's health and welfare.

Steve laid his lunch on the counter with a sigh. He had a sudden urge to just hand the woman off to Agent Coulson and let him explain. But how could Steve look Pepper Potts in the eye and not say anything? Even he could see the hurt and worry on her face.

"Just tell me. Did he get sick from something Loki did to him?"

“It’s complicated,” Steve began. He truly didn’t want to have this conversation, and luckily, SHIELD had provided him with a way out: “And it's classified. Yes, Tony is sick, but it is not so much as what Loki did but instead what Tony did to help him.”

"To help him? Is this like a curse or something on Tony for trying to do something good? " Pepper rubbed at the lines of worry on her forehead. She paced a few times, pressing her lips together. "He does this, you know. Tony does things for people, and he expects an agreeable outcome but then, bam! The fallout is nothing he anticipated and Rhodes and I have to clean it up. For all his genius, it is like he is damned by society for his nearly transparent motives, which clearly, are unselfish, but does that get him any gratitude? No. It gets him into trouble. Every. Time."

She felt like she was losing her mind. This is exactly why she broke up with the genius engineer. He was a social accident magnet. He made choices that eventually came back to bite him. What was worse was half the time, they started out as good intentions, but they always ended up haunting Tony in the end. It was actually physically painful to watch him go through these events.

Steve had the incredible urge to hug the distraught woman but he really didn’t think the gesture would be appreciated at this point. “Would you like to sit down?”

“No, I’m all nervous and need to pace,” she admitted. Pepper paused mid step and looked at Steve again with beseeching eyes. She could imagine their faces wore identical expressions - worry, compassion, and extreme frustration.

"Rhodes said that Tony's very ill. And that Loki," she paused, still uncomfortable with the implications. "He said Loki was actually helping Tony in return for getting to stay here. But Steve," she said, walking over to him, "how is this okay with you, having Loki stay here after everything he did to New York?"

"It has to be okay for now because we haven’t got much choice. We need Loki to be here with him." Steve rubbed his own forehead. He didn’t think it was possible for him to get a headache but this might be the day. "Maybe you should just talk to Tony. It’s really not my place to say any more.”

"Okay then. That's what I'm going to do," she stated firmly, but then she didn't move for a few heartbeats, a war waging in her mind as to how much of this she really wanted to see. She was terrified to find Tony weak and fragile, ill and diseased. And she also didn't know what seeing him again would do to her heart.

Then she remembered the fact that Loki was being given sanctuary here and her anger bubbled up to the surface again. She spun on her bare heels and strode towards the stairs. "Jarvis, where is Tony right now?"

“Sir is currently in his workshop," Jarvis replied. "I believe he is indisposed. I can alert him to your arrival if you would like to wait in the lounge.”

"Wait in the lounge? No, I will not wait in the lounge," she argued. "And I'm offended that you would suggest such a thing. Was that your idea or Tony's?" she asked, still upset at the request.

She keyed in her code to the door to the shop, punching the buttons with more force necessary but fully expecting to gain entry, which she did.

There was no way Steve was going to let Ms. Potts out of his sight with Loki in the Tower. As far as he knew, the god had never met the woman and might see her as an outsider and a threat. So he followed her closely.

Pepper vigorously attacked the stairs, treading down them quickly, eyes roving about the shop to find the engineer. He was usually surrounded by holograms and Dummy, blow torches and goggles.

The first thing that tipped her off that something was wrong was the lack of music. There was no rock music blaring out of the speakers, no hammering or soldering, no machinery running or bots milling about. The odd smells of oils and burnt metals didn't tickle her nose. It was like Tony wasn't even there.

But then something peculiar brought her up so quickly that Captain Rogers nearly bumped into her back. She could feel his body heat against her but the rest of her went numb.

Stretched out on couch, Tony lay sound asleep. That wasn't what was so odd. Sprawled on top of him, and just as deeply asleep, was Loki. The playboy's fingers were wound through Loki's hair, no doubt as an affectionate gesture.

And she knew exactly what that felt like. 

Pepper gripped the railing tightly with both hands. A guttural roar tore the silence of the room into pieces before she yelled, "How could you do this?"

It was unclear which male was the target of her ire.

What Loki heard was a banshee's battle cry. He was upright, heart pounding, and standing in front of Stark to block the man from harm in the blink of an eye. In his hand, he manifested and then threw one of his anlaces, the blade glowing green and gold as it raced toward the attacker. It held together long enough to cause the assaulter to cower. Then its corporal magic dissipated.

At least he'd been strong enough to construct a weapon from magic to strike fear, if nothing more.

He identified Steve Rogers. The soldier used his body to shield what Loki could now see was merely a woman, just a mortal, not a savage devil as he originally thought.

This was probably going to come back to bite him, but until he was reassured that there was no danger, he would not back down.

Steve thanked God that his reflexes were fast enough to get between Ms. Potts and Loki’s panicked attack. Fully expecting to get hit by the magical projectile, Steve tensed and was surprised when it got within a few inches of his upraised arm before vanishing.

Tony’s eyes popped open at the unexpected shriek. He was immensely grateful that he’d been made somewhat presentable, even if his jeans were still unbuttoned and unzipped. Gasping and chest heaving, he wildly looked around. 

Loki stood in an offensive posture in front of him. Near the stairs, Steve Rogers was facing off with the Asgardian, and on the step behind him was Pepper.

Did Loki just try to hurt Pepper?

If he’d been at full strength, she’d be dead right now. She’d be dead and there’d be nothing any of them could do to change that. 

It finally sank in just how dangerous a being Tony had taken to his bed. 

“Loki, stop!" Cautiously, Tony got to his feet and stepped in front of Loki. "Just back off. You don’t really want to hurt anyone, right?” 

Taking a risk, Tony laid his hand on the trickster's shoulder. He could feel tension underneath coiled muscle and the thrum magic coursing through his frame.

Tony wanted to go to Pepper and make sure she wasn't hurt, but first, he had to get the most powerful being in the room to calm the fuck down.

"I am merely defending us," Loki said, confused on why he was being reprimanded. "Your security leaves much to be desired if we are not allowed the luxury of being and remaining alone when we choose.”

“I’ll deal with that in a minute, but first, I need you to realize that no one is attacking us. This is my friend, not our enemy.”

“She is to blame for my ire," he said, pointing at the red-headed woman behind Rogers, "She threatened, or did you not hear her screeching at one of us or both? So admonish her along with your artificial servant for not warning us."

"Jarvis, we’re going to look at your programming later," Tony said to the silent AI. "But Loki, we gotta establish some rules of living, and rule number one is no touching Pepper. She does not deserve all the shit I throw at her, and damn,” he paused, turning for the first time to look into her face. “I so was not ready for this little confrontation.”

Tony wanted nothing more than to slink away. He hated situations like this. It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself caught between a current lover and someone from his immediate past. As irrational as it seemed, Tony felt somehow that he was cheating on Pepper, even if they were not together anymore. He hated seeing her hurt.

Yes, he still loved her and always would, but Tony knew he was not what she needed. He loved her, as in felt fondly for her. But now, it was quite possible that he was currently in love with the quite irate and potentially homicidal god standing behind him.

"Pepper?” Loki said, testing the name on his tongue. “So this is your former paramour?"

Tony turned back to the Asgardian and rested his hand on Loki’s arm, hoping the trickster would take comfort and forgo menacing face. “Yes, this is Virginia Potts.”

When Loki relaxed slightly and stood proudly as if being formerly introduced, Tony felt the tension in his muscles give a little. At least he couldn’t hear his pulse beating in his ear drums anymore. 

"Pepper,” he continued, “As you might have figured out already, Loki and I are kinda together. I didn’t want you to find out this way but what the hell. How does this type of thing come up in polite conversation? Oh by the way, I’m involved with a wanted war criminal and the God of Chaos? Actually, that sounds believable when it comes to me, doesn’t it?”

“Surprisingly,” Steve mocked. He turned slightly and held out a hand to help Ms. Potts to her feet. He kept a wary eye on Loki and made sure to keep the bulk of his body between the woman and the potential threat.

"I want to go. I want to leave right now," Pepper stated, backing up the stairs, trying her best to pull Steve along with her. She had no qualms about using Captain America as her shield. Part of her still could not believe she was standing in the workshop, watching Tony touch Loki, defend him to a point, and then declare that they were together. And once she was out of the building, she was going to call Rogers up and demand to know how he could be in agreement with this arrangement, as he still hadn't answered that question.

But what was clear was that she didn't belong here anymore. She shouldn't have come, and to see Tony again, it felt like Loki's dagger had found its mark and was deep within her chest.

She wasn't sure anyone ever fell out of love with Tony Stark. She just hoped it got easier, because this, right now, it felt terrible.

Steve realized the best way to diffuse this situation was to make sure Ms. Potts went back downstairs and left the building safely. He could tell she was trying to hold it together and didn’t want to make a scene in front of everyone. “I’m right here, Ms. Potts. We’ll leave. I’ll follow you out.”

The super soldier glanced once more at Loki in warning as they turned to go. Feeling an uncomfortable prickling between his shoulder blades, he turned his back on the Asgardian and escort Ms. Potts to safety.

~*~

“Agent Coulson, I do not wish to intrude, but there seems to be an altercation in sir’s workshop involving Ms. Potts and Loki. Captain Rogers is attempting to control the situation, but perhaps your assistance could help diffuse the commotion," Jarvis suggested.

When Coulson first heard the AI speak, he almost whispered mute to see if it would silence Jarvis. But that would be rude, because as he’d already established that the system was a sentient being. It would be the equivalent of telling a person to shut up.

He just didn’t want to be disturbed. Phil was mostly comfortable on the couch, socked feet propped up on the coffee table, the NFL channel on low volume, and Clint Barton asleep with his head on the senior agent’s thigh. His hand rested on Clint’s arm, soaking up the warmth from the archer’s body heat.

They’d started out talking about the upcoming mission, but Phil redirected that conversation almost immediately. He didn’t want this to be about work. Barton didn’t seem to mind. He’d followed amicably, and soon they were bullshitting about everything and nothing. For almost an hour, life was as mundane and comfortable as Coulson had hoped for them at this point in their relationship.

They mocked crappy advertising, commented about the sportscaster’s choice of tie, and then debated the pros and cons of Crest versus Colgate toothpaste. It was meaningless chatter and yet it was desperately needed to help them reconnect.

This small chunk of time late in the afternoon came with no expectation or demands, without rank or duty getting in the way. They’d spent time like this together before, mostly when mission intelligence had failed and they’d found themselves in some dump of a hotel for a few days until the target finally showed. Those down times were just as meaningful to Phil. But this time together, here and now, it was particularly valuable. It seemed to have healing properties to it. Clint falling asleep was a testament to that level of comfort currently occupying the room. Coulson wanted nothing more than for it to continue.

But then Jarvis interrupted them and reality came crashing through this false sense of almost-paradise. The thought of Pepper Potts anywhere near Loki's ability to harm sent Coulson into full-alert and propelled him into action.

~*~

Tony watched Pepper and Steve leave the workshop. His stomach felt like it was filled with lead and his heart was aching. He needed to explain, to fix this somehow, and to take that devastated look off the redhead’s face.

“I’m sorry, Loki, I have to go talk to her. I just have to let her know it’s not her fault. I’ll come back. I promise. Pep’s still my friend after all this, and part of me will always care about her.” Tony looked at Loki hoping that he would let him go and try to make amends.

Loki hadn't expected declarations of intentions from Stark at all regarding their relationship, much less to declare such things in front of a former lover. And he did so in front of the Captain as well. This was going much better than expected.

He also wasn't happy about being caught asleep and vulnerable, but Stark had made up for it. He didn't mind giving the man permission to go soothe the woman's tender heart. At least Stark had asked him for permission to do so. He knew he had little control over the mortal, but he'd have to rethink just how deeply he was weaving his way into this man's heart and how the opposite was possibly occurring as well.

The prince looked down his nose at the man, blatant sincerity oozing from the honest soul. It was all quite charming actually, if not for the woman who disrupted their blissful slumber. Loki made a show of thinking about Stark's request momentarily and then rolled his eyes. "It is her fault that she couldn't satisfy you. I see no reason why you owe her an explanation that you've chosen me over her, but if you must, I will allow it."

Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times, rarely caught speechless. He looked at Loki incredulously. Then he realized the trickster was teasing him. But Loki was right. After all, he did sort of choose Loki over his better judgment. He pointed his finger.

“You can be a giant dick sometimes, but you’re my dick. Okay, that came out way differently in my head.”

Loki bent his head and chuckled. “Very mature, Stark.”

“Yeah, okay. We will have words about this later and just what it takes to satisfy me, but right now, I have to go talk to her.” Then the billionaire reached up and grasped Loki by the back of the neck pulling him down for a blazing kiss. “Later.” Tony whispered against Loki’s lips as he pulled away.

He hurried up the steps hoping to catch Pepper before she left the building and was relieved to see her still there. She was struggling to slip on her shoes while leaning heavily on a bemused and sympathetic looking Cap. They waited for the elevator to ascend but they hadn't left yet.

“Pep, wait. Just hear me out for a minute.” Tony stopped a few feet from his former girlfriend, unsure of his reception.

Pepper had one shoe on and one in her hand. With it, she held it up defensively and hid half her body behind Steve. "Is he coming up here, because I swear to God, Tony, I will arm Steve with this stiletto and cheer him on while he sticks it up… oh God. And I can't believe you're having sex with him," she spat out. "He's not exactly your typical rebound shag, is he? You still work fast though. He hasn't even been here a week, and you just… ugh!"

She waved her hands once in front of her face as if wiping mud off a windshield. When she was done, the disgust was gone from her face. "No. I'm done. I'm leaving. I'm leaving right now, and whatever you do is your business."

She tried again to slip her second shoe on, knees weak, legs wobbly. 

Tony reached out to her not sure if he wanted to wave her on to leave or make her stay. They’d had little contact since the breakup, and the billionaire was afraid this would make him lose her forever. Something he was not prepared for at all. The heavy bandages that swathed his arm peeked out from the sleeve of his shirt as Tony laid his hand on her arm.

“Pepper, you gotta believe me. I didn’t intend for any of this to happen. I don’t know what to say to make you see why I had to help him. We have this connection I can’t explain. Loki was so broken when he got here, dying even, and Thor begged me to help them. I couldn’t turn them away." Tony rubbed his aching forehead exposing more of the reddish black stained gauze. "Fuck! Tell me what I can do to not drive you away for good?”

"Drive me away?" Pepper repeated incredulously. She was losing steam with her anger and instead, her words were laced with deep concern, disappointment, and even abandonment. "You have bigger problems than driving me away, Tony. I look at you and all I see are various hickeys and bruises and dressings all over your body. It doesn't look like Loki is doing you any good at all. So what's his point of being here?"

“Loki is the only thing keeping me alive right now. He’s draining himself nearly to death. He doesn’t have to do that Pep.” Tony ran his hand through his hair, hating the fact that he was causing her further grief. Tony just wanted someone else to see that Loki was not going to hurt him. “He could have left any time, yet he’s staying. He’s staying to help me. So far, all he’s asked for in return is a safe haven. That’s it.” 

"And when he heals you, when you are healthy again," Pepper asked, sincere blue eyes not allowing him to look away. "What happens then, Tony? You'll just… what, give him a job at Stark Industries? Live happily ever after?"

She didn't want to hear his answer, afraid to hear him confirm just that.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead. If he heals me, Pepper. So far, he's just delaying the inevitable. Guess I’m not so invulnerable after all, or the Stark luck has finally run out. Take your pick. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. It could still all go to shit. I get that. But what choice do I have now?” Tony really wasn’t up for all this soul-bearing, tear-your-heart-out angst. “None. I have nothing else and no one else. It is just me and Loki and what the two of us can do about my inevitable death. And I really don’t want to die knowing you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Tony. I could never hate you.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked away. Silence filled the awkward time until she turned to face him again. "So then, he's not actually curing you, he's just biding his time." 

“He’s doing everything he can to keep me alive. Everyone is.”

"No, he’s just realized his mistake and doesn’t want to face the consequences.”

“What are you saying?”

“If Loki never come back to earth," she said, voice tight with grief, "if you hadn't allowed Thor to bring his sick, demented, twisted brother here, then you wouldn't be dying right now. That’s the truth, isn’t it, Tony?"

He felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart, but he was so tired of defending his choices. 

“Alright. Let’s go down this road,” Tony said, voice taking on a sharp bite. “If I’d never hated my father, if I’d never started drinking, if I’d never manufactured weapons, if I’d never gone to Afghanistan, if I’d never made the suit… The list goes on and on, Pepper. And yeah, every time I try and do the right thing it comes back to bite me in the ass. But you know what? They were all my choices. I have to try and live with them, or not, as the case may be. But I’m man enough to see this through to the end. I am sorry you got caught up in the middle of it, again, but the choices I made concerning Loki were the right ones. I feel it down to my bones. He deserves a second chance. Maybe I can be the one that gives it to him.” 

Tony felt like he was floundering badly trying to get his point across, one that Pepper would probably never agree with, but he’d made his choice. For good or for ill, he made it. And everyone needed to understand that much.

"You know who I wish was here," she said after swallowing the lump in her throat. "Phil. If Phil was still alive, he would have never allowed this to happen. He would--"

"Hello Pepper," Coulson said, standing near the elevator, hands neatly folded in front of him, warm smile on his clean-shaven face.

Her face fell. She stared blankly at Tony, trying to find confirmation in what her ears were hearing. She turned around slowly, as if expecting a ghost.

When she saw Phil standing behind her, her complexion faded to beyond pale and her eyes rolled back in her head. If not for Rogers, she would've hit the floor when she ungracefully passed out.

Tony stared slightly horrified at the crumpled form, Cap cradling Pepper in his arms. After all the shit he’d put her through over the years, after everything she’d seen him do, this finally pushed her over the edge. He’d broken Ms. Pepper Potts, one of the strongest women he’d ever met. Well, mostly broken her. The rest he could blame on Agent Coulson.

“Good job, Agent. After everything I just put her through, you just had to make like a spook and scare the life out of her. Really fucking lousy timing,” Tony sighed.

"I'm breaking top-level classifications for you, Stark, but it's what I do. I handle situations that are out of control," he explained, walking up to Steve and peering down at one barely conscious CEO. He crouched down to look at her, sympathy shining bright in his eyes for the amazingly resilient and clever woman. She was slowly coming back to herself, muttering unintelligible words that would soon form shrewd questions, demanding answers, and still likely be full of both fury and tears and concern for everyone involved.

"Cap, would you mind taking her down to the reception hall for the board room? It's private and comfortable. I can talk to her there. When she's more understanding and agrees on keeping our secrets, I'll make sure she gets back to her car and on her way safely."

Despite what he’d just said, Tony knew he was leaving Pepper in the best possible hands. “Just take care of her, okay? She doesn’t need to see me when she wakes up.”

Steve nodded as he whispered encouragement to Ms. Potts as she regained her senses. He watched Tony head back into his penthouse suite and really felt badly for them both.

“Upsy daisy, Ms. Potts. Let’s get you somewhere comfortable.” Instead of trusting her to woozily stay on her feet, Steve bent and scooped the one shoe that had fallen off before sweeping Pepper into his arms. Despite her mumbled protest that she could walk just fine, the super soldier carried Pepper to the room mentioned.

 

Tony walked straight to the bar and poured himself a large tumbler of whiskey, foregoing the ice and Bruce’s admonishment not to drink. He felt the urge to get blindingly drunk so he didn’t have to think about the last half hour at all.

Glass in hand, Tony took a long gulp and relished the burn all the way down to his gut. He wandered over to the sofa and slumped down onto the cushions, head in hand as he slowly sipped the amber liquid. Tony had promised to return to Loki but not until he had the chance to pull himself together piece by fucking piece. After all, it's what he does. He fixes things. But this time, the engineer was not at all sure that this was something that could ever be mended.

Tony needed a distraction. He needed comforting. He needed Loki.

Loki heard every word from his perch the middle of the stairs leading up to the common room. Part of him wanted to make a stand with Stark. He would’ve enjoyed causing seething fits of jealousy in Ms. Pepper Potts. And he could have. But it didn’t seem like it was the right thing to do, where Stark was concerned. The man was in obvious distress over the situation, and Loki didn’t need to cause more.

Stark didn’t try to hide whatever this was developing between them. In fact, he seemed rather firm on the matter of defending Loki’s intentions.

That bothered the Asgardian. He himself still wasn’t entirely sure of his intentions. He hadn’t meant to fall into bed with the mortal, but it was pleasurable. He also hadn’t meant to begin to enjoy Stark’s company. That too came as a pleasant surprise amidst all the turmoil. He was beginning to care for the man. In his heart knew it to be true.

He was also certain that he’d embedded himself into the engineer’s heart quite deeply already. How and when that happened, Loki wasn’t certain. A part of him wanted to exploit that, and he most likely would to some degree to get what he wanted while here in Midgard. But he couldn’t deny that a part of him also relished the idea of someone caring for him, caring what happened to him, and taking interest in his future.

That future was still very unclear. He’d made a vow to do what was necessary to save Tony Stark and he’d intended to do so. He just wasn’t sure how. He'd need to start exploring that with vigor tonight.

Loki climbed the stairs the rest of the way up to the common room and found Stark looking quite miserable, beverage in hand to try and soothe the hurt that welled up inside him.

“She’s quite the handful,” he commented, strolling up behind the couch. When he reached Stark, he bent low over the man, resting his arms on the back of the furniture. 

“You have no idea. But that is part of her charm.” Tony was glad that Loki managed to find him. In the past he’d sulk alone and get drunk then pass out on the sofa. The billionaire found that scenario lacked any appeal at all. Truth be told, he relished the Asgardian’s proximity.

Loki plucked the drink from Tony’s hand and sipped it. “I understand what it is like to care for someone but no longer wish to have their company. Love can resonate in a heart like a haunting echo long after its passion dies out or is abruptly severed.”

 

"Apt description. Very poetic.” Tony replied somewhat more sarcastically than he meant. He felt hollowed out and empty. “So had a lot of experience with heartache?"

Loki stood and wandered over to the windows. He finished the drink and held the cut glass up to the sunlight, watching the light break up into a spectrum of color cast about the room.

"I have known heartache, Stark. Humans should not feel entitlement to agony. Gods have their fair share, some more than others," he added.

“If one were to accredit all the stories, and there are quite a few, believe me when I say you were the subject of a lot of scholarly debates and tabloid fodder. Some said unfeeling monster, while others extolled your checkered past according to folklore. So tell me which is it? Knowing you like I do now, I’d have to say you suffer emotions just like the rest of us, had losses that would stagger a mere mortal. How did you survive?” Tony watched the tense line of Loki’s back and wondered what right he had to bemoan his fate when the being in front of him had it so much worse.

“Unfeeling monster,” Loki repeated, voice distant with memories. “No, I feel intensely, Tony Stark. I know what it is to love with a burning intensity that both consumes and sustains you.”

He lowered the glass, eyes scanning the skyline of lights and buildings. The sun was setting, turning the height of skyscrapers into gleaming gold, casting shadows in the streets at their broad bases.

He wondered how much of himself he should expose to this man. The desire to tell his story was there, to share a part of him, betting that Stark wouldn’t use it to try and hurt Loki with this painful piece of his past. It was a gamble, but he had very little to lose. He could hardly be put through worse that what the Chitauri General did to him.

“My wife died birthing our twin boys,” he revealed with disturbing simplicity. “At the time, I did not know why her pregnancy was difficult, why my mother’s healers could not spare her the complications she endured to the end. But all was revealed, to my despair.”

“Why is it always at your cost?”

“Good question,” Loki acknowledged. “The answer lies in my heritage. It is not like Thor’s. I am a Frost Giant, not of Asgard, but of the home of their enemy. I was taken shortly after my birth by Odin and claimed as his own, for darker purposes. I was made to believe I was one of the Aesir, but it was a lie. My identity was kept from me in the hope I would be of use to the Allfather at some point, but that did not come to pass.”

“So your dad made you a trophy too, eh?” 

“What his greed accomplished,” Loki continued, “was cause my wife to die a painful death after struggling to nurture my sons through pregnancy. Because of me, our children were genetically incompatible with her race. And I would not know why until lineage was revealed to me the day Thor went to Jotunheim.”

“What, uh, where?”

“The home of the Frost Giants. He wanted to start a war with King Laufey, my true father. Imagine my surprise when I confronted Odin and he confirmed my deepest fears. I had the answer to my beloved’s death, that my very own blood had killed her.”

Tony was horrified by Loki’s revelations. He could not imagine the kind of pain losing a child would cause, and to lose twins was heart rending. Tony envisioned what it would have done to Pepper if they’d gone through something similar, what it would have done to him. Despite his shitty childhood, there was one small part of Tony that wondered what their children might have been like had he and Pepper stayed together.

“I can’t even begin to contemplate what it would have been like to live through that. And, this confirms my opinion that Odin is a colossal, cosmic asshole. I did get out of the weapons making trade, but I might make an exception in your case."

“A nuclear warhead with the Allfather’s name on it?” Loki sardonically chuckled. “If this is how you show affection, I’m extraordinarily intrigued by your macabre approach.”

"I do what I can to lighten the load,” Tony replied. It was some time before either of them spoke. “So the Norse tales and legends are lies then, because they are quite adamant that you are the mother not the father of several children.”

Tony was genuinely curious but realized as soon as the question left his lips it might not have been the best time to ask.

"Actually, I am both, and I assure you, it is quite possible. Laborious, exhausting, and diabolical, but possible." 

Tony opened and closed his mouth twice before curiosity got the best of him. “Okay, I’ll buy in. Tell me how.”

 

Loki downed the liquid in the glass and returned to sit next to Stark, facing him. "In my grief, I roamed the Nine Worlds, seeking mentors of magic, those who would teach me anything I could use to quell my heartache. I found many a sorcerer practicing black magics, forbidden spells, things of taboo. My greatest ally was Karnilla, one of the Norns. She is still the most powerful diviner in the Nine. She is a necromancer and taught me much about creation."

Loki looked into Stark's eyes, seeing the moment when the man realized where his story was taking them.

“Okay, wait,” Tony muttered. “Creation. Of a life form.”

This information was a little hard to process. It made Tony realize how staggeringly powerful Loki was. Also how very fucked up he had to have been when he made earth a target. They’d apparently fought a ‘mini-me’ version of Loki, because if he could create life? 

Wow. It humbled him a bit to think he’d had his hands, lips, and not to mention other body parts on said god.

"With the knowledge I'd gained across the realms,” Loki continued, “I settled myself in a cold dark cave and began practicing dark magic. My hope was to create children of my own, beings who were immortal and caused no harm to others in their creation. I failed many times, but my first success was Sleipnir. He embodied my artistry. He still is the most impressive and powerful steed of Odin's time. He allows the Allfather to ride him, but he belongs to no one."

"Next came Fenrir." Loki smiled fondly, if not proudly. "He inherited my rage. My son is a danger to all." Loki's mirth faded and he looked away. "Odin banished him to solitude decades ago."

"Jorgumand was an accident," Loki admitted, laughing to himself. "Sometimes, these things happen," he said, as akin to a surprise pregnancy. "I was delirious by the time the serpent came to life and he took from me, growing to epic proportions before Karnilla found me and severed the cord between me and my greedy child. Jorgumand inherited my strength. He too was banished by the Allfather."

Loki stood then, pacing before finishing his tale. He found himself not wanting to expose his daughter to Stark. She was beautiful to Loki, a creature of incredible value, but it was rare that any agreed with him.

"My daughter was the last of my creations. She is of a form more palatable to most but still deformed and distorted in their eyes," he found himself saying. It was a disservice to her, and she'd be hurt to hear him speak that way, but he wanted Stark to understand his plight. "I thought I succeeded in creating a presentable grandchild to Odin, but alas, seems he does not find beauty where my eye sees it."

Loki swallowed hard, missing his children, his offspring of magic, at a time when he was driven half mad with grief so long ago. He had sworn he would never allow himself to feel so deeply, love so strongly again for fear he'd be driven to that dark place once more.

It was then that Karnilla had told him of the prophecy that one day, in a mad rage, he'd bring about the end of Asgard.

He may not be of the Aesir, but even with all his anger at Odin, he'd never once wanted to be its downfall.

"Hel inherited my wisdom. When Odin banished her, she contested his ruling and threatened to take the matter to the high court of the Norns. He was so astounded by her insolence and shrewdness that I believe she won some of his respect. That, and he did not want others to see her face." Loki took a deep breath and exhaled, feeling some of the tension leave his body. "Instead of banishing her to lonely solitude, she now resides over what Midgardian’s would call a lower level of Heaven. She ushers in the souls of those who do not die in battle but have lived well. She is perceptive and compassionate, and I miss her greatly, but I do not worry for her. She has purpose and honor in her tasks. She is the only child I did not completely fail."

Loki held out his hands as a show of nothing more to tell. "So that is truth. What folklore gleans from it, I haven't the mind to correct. Their stories are far more amusing than my reality, don't you think?"

Tony was simply astounded by the tale and by the fact that Loki gave him these very personal pieces of himself. 

Unable to resist, Tony got up and walked to Loki, cupping the back of his neck and bringing their faces close. 

“You are one of the most amazing beings I’ve ever met. I can’t even begin to understand everything you’ve had to endure. You loved them all, Loki, and you and your children didn’t deserve to be treated that way. God, I’d like nothing more than to suit up in that giant piece of armor I have stored and kick Odin’s holier than thou ass.”

It had been too long since someone wanted to comfort Loki to simply ease his pain without ulterior motives but simply for compassion's sake. Frigga had done so, but weren't all mothers supposed to be that way?

He reached for Stark, gently pulling the man back towards him, softly kissing him again, intensifying the press of his mouth when he wanted to be closer. This wasn't about intimacy in the fiercely passionate way they'd shared earlier. This was about being close to someone, wanting to feel them near, enjoying the sensations of warmth and pressure, the slide of tongues, the fullness of lips. In a way, it was more intimate than sex, since this was a matter of comfort and closeness rather than desire and selfish need.

He kissed the man until he had his fill, when the taste of poison began to break through his momentary bliss. He pulled back, still sharing breath, and frowned.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Tony almost replied in his usual manner, which was to brush off his own welfare and cheerfully lie, but it didn’t feel right after all these honest confessions.

“I feel pretty much as I expected, which is to say I feel like shit. Not that I’m going to pass out or anything again, but I think Bruce was right. Breaking the rules on his ‘Tony Stark must not do’ list was not the best of ideas, although I wouldn’t trade what we shared for anything. So was it worth it? Hell yeah. But could I have done without the stress of putting Pepper through seeing it? Uh, definitely, yeah.” 

"We must speak with Dr. Banner," Loki suggested, finally leaning back and huffing out his displeasure. "He must disclose his findings thus far and I can decide how to proceed from there. Have your servant call for him.”

“Hey now, promise to play nice," Tony prompted, pointing a finger.

Loki snatched Stark's wrist and brought up said finger to his teeth to bite. The engineer was quick and pulled back at the last second before Loki would have bit down on said digit.

"You are not afraid of me anymore," Loki said, narrowing his eyes at the man. "I am not certain I like this new arrangement."

Tony dropped his playful demeanor for a moment. He looked Loki in the eyes. “No, I’m not afraid of you anymore. I’m afraid for you, Loki. There’s a big difference. So much could still go wrong. Despite what you think, you are not invulnerable or beyond reprisal for your past actions.”

"Yes, I know. SHIELD and Dr. Banner won't let me forget."

"I’ll make sure Bruce plays nice too. My tower my rules. Besides no one messes with my boyfriend.”

At that declaration, Loki chuckled.

~*~

Coulson willingly escorted Ms. Potts until she was completely out of the Tower and on her way. After a long discussion, a few unbidden tears, a couple of hugs, and some reassurance, the CEO of Stark Industries was on her way back to her headquarters.

He’d reminded her that SHIELD had an office ready for her if she ever had the inclination. It was right beside Maria Hill’s office, just down the hall from the Director’s room. He really didn’t want to see her under the servitude of SHIELD, but her sharp mind and tenacity were exactly what the organization needed. She could also bring that human element back to administration that it was beginning to sorely lack, in his opinion.

He waved once as Ms. Potts drove her car out of the VIP parking garage, then he turned to head back to the elevator to take him back to the Avengers levels.

“Agent Coulson,” Jarvis said, “A SHIELD vehicle is attempting to gain access to the garage.”

Phil stopped and turned around to look at the SUV pulling in as Ms. Potts exited. He could see Sitwell in the driver’s seat. The man didn’t look happy. There was an urgency to the way he handled the vehicle, but when wasn’t there?

“Let him pull in.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dreading the explanation for the agent’s visit, Coulson took a deep breath and put on his game face. Tires screeched on the slick ground as he came to a halt a few feet beside Coulson.

“If I had a nickel for every bald tire you—”

“They’ve sold him,” Jasper said, not even fully out of the SUV. He shut the door and briskly walked to stand near Phil. “They sold the Winter Soldier.”

Phil felt his heart skip a beat and then stutter back to life as the tingle of adrenaline shot through his body.

But they weren’t ready.

They weren’t ready yet, damn it.

This could be the disaster he feared. They needed the next 48 hours to mentally and emotionally prepare. They just weren’t ready.

“We have no intel on the buyer yet but we think they sold him because they don’t understand the technology to program him properly,” Sitwell continued, hands parting his blazer then resting on his hips. “We think the it may be the—“

“Right now, it doesn’t matter who the buyer is,” Coulson stated. “We must take possession before anyone else does.”

“You’ve got twenty-four hours, max.”

“Give me more intel.”

“Just over an hour ago, satellite imagery picked up a truck big enough to transport the cryo unit arriving at the compound. They started moving pieces of the tech into the back of it. Here” he said, fishing out a tablet from the passenger seat of the SUV. “These are the shots of the equipment involved. Have Romanoff confirm this is part of the stasis chamber.”

Phil took the tablet and flipped through the black and white photos stored in its memory. “This could work to our advantage. The more men it takes them to load the truck and break down the chamber, means the less who will be armed when we infiltrate their complex.”

“It’s your call,” Sitwell conceded.

“But an ambush on a mobile unit would be easier than an assault on the compound.”

“Unless they rig the truck to blow in such a scenario. They wouldn’t want him to fall into the wrong hands.”

Coulson scowled. “He’s already in the wrong hands.”

“You know what I mean. They all fear the Winter Soldier. He’s assassinated more people than any sniper on the planet, given that he’s been doing this for nearly seventy years. He’s a legend. A myth. Better to destroy what they don’t understand than have him used against them in the future.”

Phil shook his head. “Barnes is unstable. That’s the point. He’s coming unglued and is unpredictable. No one can control him anymore. We're just lucky he wants to side with us. Or that was his last wish when he was rational.”

“Hey, as long as he kills the enemy,” Sitwell said with a shrug. “Isn’t that all matters to the terrorists paying for his services? If he kills the enemy and not them, they’ll continue to keep him alive. I'd imagine the same holds true for Fury's logic.”

Coulson thought of Cap and Natasha and Clint. He’d die before he’d see their skills used in such an irresponsible and heartless manner. At least Fury still had morals.

They were all tools for SHIELD, yes, but they had a purpose within the organization, to protect the general public. Even as a weapon of SHIELD, they were contributing to a better society, and that made their employ more worthy and noble, the same way soldiers were utilized in the military.

What was happening to Barnes was the destruction of a valuable mind in a technologically-advanced body. They’d use up James Buchanan Barnes until there was nothing left but the shell of a man, a mindless cyborg with basic programming now that his fundamental mental coding had failed.

He’d either self destruct or they’d destroy him when he was too broken to repair. 

“Hey, if you want Barnes,” Sitwell said, “you’ve got to go now, Phil. There’s no more time to prepare. If Delta Team isn’t ready, Fury said--”

“We’re ready,” Coulson said, trying to convince himself. They'd have to be ready. He couldn’t have Fury appropriating the Winter Soldier. He’d lose his hand. But was it worth the lives of his team if they failed? 

“We’re ready.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with us. Bruce is again struggling with the thought of Loki doing a good, unselfish act. The scientist only wants what is best for Tony and he thinks that might not be Loki. They all have to put a lot of faith and trust in the Trickster and Bruce is only voicing out loud the concern everyone is feeling. We love Bruce Banner we really do.
> 
> Also thanks for hanging in there and all the wondrously lovely, awesome comments! We love you all!

Steve had been reluctant to leave Ms. Potts in Agent Coulson’s capable hands. He hated seeing her so distraught. But despite being somewhat clueless where women were concerned, even he could see the woman was clearly embarrassed by her swoon. So with a breathy “thank you” from Stark Industries CEO, the captain returned to the kitchen to finish his lunch. He was not really hungry any more, but he still had to fuel his metabolically-enhanced body. As a soldier, he learned not to pass up food. You never knew when your next meal was coming.

Four heaping sandwiches and a quart of milk later, Steve found himself at somewhat of a loss as to how to pass the time. He’d train again later with the others, but as far as free time, he found it rather tedious recently. He straightened up the kitchen and returned to his room to dig through his duffel bag. He pulled out a small sketchbook and a charcoal pencil and put the blunt tip to the pristine page. Then he let his mind wander.

“Captain Rogers?”

Steve startled and looked up at the ceiling. They all tended to do that when replying to the AI. “Yes?”

“Agent Coulson requests your immediate presence in the conference room where you previously met.”

“Thanks. Tell him I’m on my way.”

He glanced down at the sketchbook page. It was covered with random images of Bucky: His grin when they were kids sharing a joke, his impish expression when they were teens and mischievously breaking some rule, the young soldier’s profound relief at being rescued in the lab, Bucky’s face highlighted by a campfire after some mission late in the war, and then of Bucky’s eyes, boring into Steve’s soul, as he fell.

Steve flung the book away. It hit the wall and slid down in a crumpled tangle of pages. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and wearily got to his feet. He pushed every bit of hurt back down inside and left the room, making his way quickly to the mentioned meeting.

Truthfully, Steve welcomed the distraction.

~*~

Natasha paced the room she appropriated from Clint. She felt edgy, nervous, and about to claw her way out of her own skin. She hated inactivity, especially when someone she cared for had been left out in the cold. It was too tempting to just access her network of contacts and leave for Chechnya. But that was before, when she had no one to care about but herself. Now, Natasha just could not bring herself to abandon her partner.

The wall across the room bore the brunt of her discontent. It fairly bristled with holes. Her favorite set of throwing knives were embedded in the plaster. She’d dare Stark to pitch a fit about it. The billionaire frequently did more damage during his drunken outings than the assassin could ever hope to do on purpose. Besides, Stark could afford to replace the wall, the whole luxury room, or even the entire building if he wanted to on a whim. She wondered what that would feel like. 

She never felt so out of control and unbalanced. It was like the whole foundation she’d built her life on was crumbling away. Did she care that her sparring match with Rogers had gone way farther than she’d intended?

The sad realization was that yes, it did matter.

Natasha was hardwired to use her body in any way possible to obtain the objective. There was a time when doing such a thing was as easy as deciding what clothes to wear for the day. It was just another part of the job. Those distasteful details could get compartmentalized, never to see light of day again.

When she’d started working with Barton on a regular basis, it was easy to see that he wanted her. Clint, on more than one occasion, watched Natasha with a hungry, appraising gaze. But the one time she tried to use the archer to get the upper hand, he’d shoved her away in anger and told the Widow to come back when she gave a damn and wasn’t just trying to manipulate him.

That had actually hurt. It was the first time since James that Natasha began to question her ethics and morals.

Then the relationship Natasha had with Clint progressed into a real caring friendship. It was the first she’d had, platonically-speaking. So when, after a fairly horrific mission, Natasha went looking for some solace and climbed into Clint’s bunk, he accepted her advances gladly and completely. She now knew the difference between giving her body to another in passion instead of using it as a weapon to manipulate.

It nearly made Natasha sick with the realization she’d slipped back into her old habits. She’d locked the human part of her deep down inside. She’d used Steve and the fondness she knew he had for her and twisted it for her purpose.

Oddly, it was James who had taught her how to do this, how to seduce in order manipulate towards the mission goal. It was strictly training, but it slowly became more, until neither of them could deny their true feelings. 

After he’d been ripped away from her, no after she left him behind, it had been easier to drown those feelings in blood and death and money paid for service.

Now, Natasha had Clint to remind her of her humanity. She also had Phil and Steve. Hell, even Stark could do the trick, if you counted his smarm as a show of genuine affection.

The urge to flee was still strong, despite everything, but she knew running and hiding was really not an option any more. They would just find her and drag her back to face herself anyway.

With a snarl of frustration, Natasha stalked to the wall, plucked out her knives and prepared to fling them again. 

“Agent Romanoff,” Jarvis interrupted. “Your presence is required by Agent Coulson. A matter has come up that demands your immediate attention. A meeting has been set up in the conference room on the VIP suite level.”

Natasha took a deep breath and methodically placed the knives back in their sheaths on her person. It was about fucking time something happened. She didn’t care what as long, as she got to hurt something.

“Tell Agent Coulson I’m heading there now.” 

~*~

Clint blinked a few times and sat up sleepily as Phil got up and left the room. His short explanation about Pepper Potts and Loki facing off against each other over Stark was as amusing as it was terrifying. Although, the archer would have put money on Ms. Potts coming out on top on nearly any fight. But of course, Agent Coulson had to go and be the one to mediate.

He shook his head at the image of Phil in a perfectly pressed suit holding a ruler in his hand, ready to smack his disobedient charges. It was an image that Clint hastily shoved into the ‘not going to go there but it is kinda hot’ section of his libido.

It used to be that the archer could fall asleep anywhere. ‘Catch some rest while you can’ was the motto of the sniper. You never knew when you’d be on an op and needed to be alert for endless stretches of hours waiting for the perfect moment to take the shot.

That ability had been thoroughly messed up from his recent ordeal with Loki and the resulting aftereffects. But now that Phil was alive and relatively whole, Clint found himself soothed by the mere calming presence of his handler, despite their recent relationship pitfalls.

After discussing the upcoming mission, he found himself blinking blearily at the TV and yawning. Phil sat beside him on the sofa, using a tablet to catch up on some work that had piled up in his absence. It was a comfortable silence, and Clint could not help yawning again. After all, the archer had three or more months of sleep to catch up on.

Clint’s head bobbed, then he heard an amused snort from Coulson. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, pushing him into a reclining position. Resting his head on Coulson’s, thigh the archer fell asleep to the sensation of a warm hand resting on his scalp, lightly combing through his hair.

Later, when Coulson left the room to save the day, Clint realized he’d gotten a little over three hours sleep. He smiled delightedly that Phil let him use his leg as a pillow the whole time. He got off the couch and stretched, relishing the feel as each joint and vertebrae popped. He idly scratched at his stomach and wandered into the bathroom. Clint used the facilities and washed up in the sink. 

Back out in the suite, he rummaged through the mini fridge and selected a carton of leftover cashew chicken. He heated it in the microwave and ate as he appropriated Phil’s tablet to catch up on the news.

Clint just finished his meal when Jarvis chimed in with a summons.

“Agent Barton, you’ve been asked to join Agent Coulson in the VIP conference room without further ado. An urgent matter demands your immediate attention.”

“Yeah, thanks, Jarvis. I’ll be right there.” Clint slipped on his boots, leaving the laces undone.

Clint had to wonder, as he jogged down to the conference room, just what catastrophic event happened now. It seemed like trouble followed them like fleas on a dog. 

He entered the correct area and noted immediately that Cap and Natasha were already there, both looking kind of grim. Clint sat down next to Nat and bumped her shoulder with his. He looked at his partner and knew she was far from alright. Nat shook her head and rolled her eyes at him, but he felt her grasp his hand under the table. It was a gesture that calmed them both.

They all looked up when the door opened.

Coulson entered the conference room supporting a small laptop on one arm, holding a tablet with the other hand, and talking into the Bluetooth in his right ear. He didn’t acknowledge anyone in the room yet, instead intent on listening to the relay of information pouring out of the SHIELD intelligence division.

“I am going to appropriate the QuinJet with the beta-version of the cloaking device,” he told Sitwell through the earpiece. “If it doesn’t work yet, I’m in no worse shape than going in with a jet not yet fitted with the concealment apparatus. Oh, and schedule two refueling jets on our route there and back. Barton doesn't like our tanks to get low.”

He only spared a couple of seconds, but he thought of Barton, merely an hour ago, asleep in his lap. How quickly things change in the life of a SHIELD agent. He was grateful for the relaxing afternoon with the archer, because the next thirty-six hours could prove entirely unpredictable.

He set the laptop down on the table and turned his attention to the tablet Jasper had given him. He pulled up the black and whites of the compound and the men moving the stasis chamber into the back of the large truck.

He laid that down on the table as well then bent low, putting both hands on the glossy surface while listening to Sitwell argue with an airman over preparing the experimental QuinJet for the Delta Team.

“Give me five,” he finally said, turning off the chatter in his ear. It was then that he stood up fully and addressed the two agents and the soldier in the conference room.

“Delta Team," he commanded. "You’ve been called to duty."

He took off the Bluetooth earpiece and tossed it on top of the laptop. Everyone shifted in their chairs, uneasy but at full attention. He waited three heartbeats to give them time to process before he began again.

Clint immediately lost his cavalier attitude. He removed his boots from the table and tried not to wince when Nat’s fingers tightened on his own. This was it, the archer’s trial by fire, his first mission since the Invasion. Despite the churning in his gut, Clint vowed that he would not let his team and Agent Phil Coulson down no matter what.

This is what Steve had waited for, what he relished. This was the high before a mission, the rush of adrenaline which made focus becoming laser sharp. But unlike his other missions, this one would prove to be the most important one of his life. Not for Captain America but for Steve Rogers. “Tell us what happened?”

“It appears the Winter Soldier has been sold to the highest bidder." His eyes strayed to Romanoff and Rogers. “A little over hour ago, the terrorist cell known to us as “Kraznyi” began moving equipment out of the largest building of their compound where Barnes was last known to be stored in cryo.”

“If Romanoff confirms what we believe to be true," he stated, "then I call you to egress in 48 minutes where we will leave for the weapon's depot in Flushing. A long list of gear, firepower, and transportation are being bundled now for our use."

Coulson then looked back at Natasha and picked up the tablet before walking over to her. His eyes were intense but his voice was soft and compassionate when he spoke.

“Agent Romanoff, these are satellite images from Kraznyi’s compound. Can you confirm that what we see here are parts of the stasis chamber being disassembled for transport?”

Natasha desperately suppressed the shudder that wanted to wrack her body. At the sight of the chamber and its parts, she could almost feel the pinch of needles and the cold sting of the stasis drugs coursing through her body.

No. She could get through this. 

She took a deep breath and meticulously scanned every detail. Then she looked Coulson right in the eyes. “Yes. I can confirm that those are the components. They have possession and are moving the cryo unit in these images.” 

"Okay. You are aware of your individual orders and responsibilities, but I'll review one last time," Coulson said, reaching for the remote for the projector. He connected the laptop and brought up the specs of Kraznyi's compound.

"Agent Barton: You will pilot our newest QuinJet, equipped with diamond stealth capabilities and sound dampeners. It is both a blessing and a curse that they are expecting rain at our arrival time, but I trust your abilities to fly us in and out without complications. The bad weather will help mask our landing here," he said pointing to the roof of a four story building next to the small militarized base. "As of an hour ago, it was structurally sound to hold the weight of our transport."

He caught Clint's attention and held it. "We need you to stay up top. You'll be our eyes throughout the entire op. You'll fire an arrow and detonate an explosive here," he said, pointing to the farthest corner from their target, "and cause the distraction we need to enter building D, which will be the closest structure to you. You'll have a direct line of site to our entry, exit, and route to and from egress."

Clint nodded and immediately realized the importance of his part in the mission. The archer was to be their safety net, to make sure the team’s extraction route was kept open. That they all had that much trust in him was staggering. Clint was being treated as if he’d never been compromised. Coulson’s expression conveyed that and more.

"Captain," Phil said to Steve. "I will enter the compound at the northeast wall with you and Agent Romanoff through the barbed wire here. We'll tranq the dogs and soldiers if necessary. We'll proceed in through the corner window. It is supposedly a food storage closet. From there, we'll move to intercept the Winter Soldier who is being kept in cryo in the stasis unit near the north wall. This is an image of James Barnes last month," he said, knowing Romanoff and Rogers didn't need the refresher.

Steve wanted to reach out and touch that image. It was the first time he’d seen Bucky’s fully uncovered face. Gone was the devil may care expression in his best friend’s eyes. In its place was a kind of world weariness that spoke of too many horrific things witnessed and perpetrated. This time, Steve would save his best friend, whether Bucky remembered him or not. There was no other option. Maybe this would finally lay some of his ghosts to rest, the ones that haunted his nightmares more often than the super soldier wanted to admit.

Steve also silently vowed to keep everyone safe, and no one would be left behind. This time, they would all go home together.

"Agent Romanoff," Coulson addressed, "You and I will reverse the cryo process when we find the stasis chamber. I'm familiar enough with it to aid you but it will be your primary task. Dr. Banner has given SHIELD a heavy tranquilizer that he developed for the Hulk. We’ll use that version so Rogers can remove Barnes from the premises and get him home without the struggle of resurfacing to consciousness. It is unknown what memories the Winter Soldier will retain when he wakes or if they've reprogrammed him in the few months they've had possession. He could very well be hostile."

"I will also need your assistance with the locals," he continued to Natasha. "As you are aware, there's a rebel group nearby, more like a street gang, who likes to pilfer and punk Kraznyi for fun." He linked his hands in front of him and smirked. "I think it'd be a good time for red-on-red fighting. In exchange for their assistance with our distraction, we can offer them some perks to make it worth their while. We'll land and provide you the time to make them an offer and give instruction. I'll have specifics from Fury before our arrival and leave the final details up to you."

“Understood.” Natasha wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in the leader of Kraznyi's brain. He'd bought her former lover like he was some sort of unthinking, unfeeling automaton to be aimed at the target and then put back in storage. Now he was selling him like furniture.

It had been impossible to get James out when she’d fled Project X. But now they had a real shot at winning James his freedom, never having to suffer through the hellish ‘storage’ protocol ever again. Natasha remembered now every single time, how it felt when the cold drugs wormed their way through her system, erasing who she was, killing off her soul one piece at a time, the claustrophobic confines of the cryo chamber and the hiss from the hydraulics as the unit sealed, of her hands clawing at the smooth surface in those few moments before she was put under, never knowing how much time had passed or how much of herself would be left when she was needed again.

She would go to hell and take all of them with her before Natasha allowed it to happen again.

Coulson’s plan was a solid one. He understood that out of all of them, only Steve and herself would have the strength to restrain James, should he wake and see them as hostiles. There was always a period of disorientation after waking and the instinct to lash out was a strong one. It would be hard to judge just how much tranquilizer would be needed to keep the Winter Soldier under. The processes he’d went through differed from hers. James was actually the only test subject she could name that had come closest to the original serum’s design and strength.

“Infiltrate, rile the locals, offer them ordinance to do some damage as a distraction. Clever, and it has a good chance of working,” she commented. “I know some of the men in Kraznyi. They come in and take over, leaving a lot of resentment behind from the rivals. It should not be too difficult to stir them up. I also have to mention, sir, that the tranquilizer might not be as effective as you’d hoped. Ask Steve how well they work on him. There should be enough time to get James aboard the jet but after that, I can’t say.”

“It’s our only option at this point. It works or it doesn’t,” Coulson stated with a shrug. “He’s worth the risk.”

"Agreed,” she admitted. “Unhooking the cryo chamber should not be a problem either. I’ve seen it done enough times, providing the equipment is still similar to what I’m familiar with.”

She shuddered, and everyone witnessed her display of weakness, but not once did Clint let go of her hand. He squeezed it reassuringly. His support allowed her to breathe again. She was not going alone. Unlike her escape from Project X, this time, she had a team to back her up.

"I’m hoping that when he sees the two of you," he said to Natasha and Steve, "Barnes will recall enough to be curious and allow us to take him off site. We have a facility just outside of the area, should we need to set down and reevaluate our options for bringing him in if he's hostile."

Coulson checked the time on the laptop's toolbar, missing his watch that Fury probably still had confiscated. "You have 36 minutes. Any questions?"

“None, sir. I’ll go and get geared up. Rendezvous in the parking garage?” Steve asked, standing up. At Coulson's nod of agreement, the Captain left the room, eager to get what might turn into a grueling mission underway.

At Coulson’s wrap up, Natasha let go of the death grip she had on Clint’s hand. She paused at the door to the conference room. “I’ll meet you there too,” she simply replied before exiting the room.

Clint also got to his feet. He walked around the table and then perched on the edge in front of Phil. The man looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He tried for a light, mischievous tone: “So, I must mention that Fury revoked my pilot’s license. What if we get pulled over, sir?” the archer said with a cocky grin.

"Sounds like you want the punishment, agent." Coulson glanced at the empty door before reaching for Clint. He gently wrapped his hand around the back of the archer's neck. "Don’t worry. You're clear for flight again, Barton. I'm glad you caught a nap this afternoon because it's going to be a long haul."

“Yeah," Clint breathed out at Phil’s touch, "and I’m definitely in this for the long haul.”

This was the beginning of their professional relationship while wading through personal territory. Phil was simultaneously eager and anxious to see how it played out. Could they do this and still maintain their professionalism or would things get too stressful and they'd compromise competence for the need for reassurance?

He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Clint's lips. The Bluetooth chirped and Coulson pulled back. He made a displeased noise and straightened up. It chirped again.

"You have orders," he said to Barton, letting his thumb gently sweep across the warm, tan skin at the back of Clint's neck. He broke contact to put the device to his ear. "Go."

Clint hopped off the table and shot Phil a mock salute. He could not keep the smile off his face though. They were going to be alright. Clint just knew it.

~*~

Thirty six minutes, Steve thought, and his life may very well change forever. It remained to be seen if it would be for the better. No matter how the mission unfurled, Steve would make sure to get James Barnes back on his native soil.

The soldier hurried back to the room he had dumped his bags in earlier. He knew they would get all geared up at the departure point. So Steve rummaged through his duffel for a change of clothes. Black cargo pants and a black long sleeved tee would be enough. He pulled his well worn boots back on and hesitated in front of a large round bag sitting on the bed. He picked it up and slung the case across his back, welcoming the familiar weight of his shield. 

The Captain tucked one more thing into a pocket and then was ready to leave. He got to the door and then froze from an overwhelming sense of anxiety. He grasped the frame so hard that it cracked. It was as if Steve’s feet refused to move.

He grew lightheaded before the soldier remembered to breathe. Nothing really had a chance to sink in yet. The last few months had been a constant whirlwind of confusion, grief, battles and acclimatization. His life was so vastly different than he ever imagined it would be. Immeasurably different.

Now, Steve had a chance to get back one of his own. Not just his best friend but one of his most trusted allies, a fellow Howling Commando. They would be the last surviving.

Truth be told, it scared him. He could not screw this up, not again.

With a Herculean effort, Steve forced his recalcitrant feet to move and his heart to stop pounding. Putting forth the resolve Captain America made famous, Steve left his room and made his way down to the parking garage. He should have been surprised to see Natasha there first, but they both had equal stakes in this mission, to get back someone they thought lost forever.

It didn’t take Clint long to gather the things he needed. The archer mentally went over the mission plans, already mapping out in his mind the actions that would define his field readiness. This was a make or break mission. No room at all for errors. It wasn't just Clint’s life on the line, but Steve, Nat, and most importantly, Agent Coulson. If their transport was damaged, they’d be stuck on hostile soil, something Clint never wanted to experience again.

He looked at the distinctive body armor in maroon and black that hung in the closet of Coulson’s suite. It was a room that the archer now considered his. He touched the expertly mended tears in the Kevlar, remembering every injury. Clint also recalled the trust Captain America put in him when he poked his head into the secured room, the one SHIELD put him in after his cognitive recalibration, or as Nat liked to put it: when she clocked him in the head.

At Cap's permission, Clint had suited up and joined the battle, hoping for a little retribution. He’d gotten that and more, before the devastating news of Agent Coulson’s death. 

Clint shook off those memories with some difficulty. He turned away from the body armor and chose instead black cargo pants and a short sleeved black tee shirt. He’d pick out the rest of his gear at the Flushing facility.

On this mission, Clint was not going as an Avenger or as an agent of SHIELD. The archer was going as a member of Strike Team Delta, commanded by Phil Coulson. It was something Clint never thought he’d ever have the privilege to do again.

Not seeing any more reason to linger, Clint grabbed his bow case and quiver then headed down to the parking garage. He knew, despite Phil being neck deep in last minute details, the agent would not be late.

Clint saw Natasha and Steve already waiting there and went to stand next to his partner. He leaned against the black SUV and gave Nat a sideways glance.

“You good?” Clint asked, noticing the tight line of her shoulders under her bodysuit and jacket.

“I can get the job done,” she replied in carefully-controlled monotone.

“That’s not what I asked.” Clint laid his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

“Not now, Clint. Please,” Nat whispered from between clenched teeth. “I can do this. I just don’t want to talk about it right now.” 

“I’m here for you, Nat. You know that. No matter what,” Clint softly answered. 

“I know.” Nat leaned against the vehicle staring off into the depths of the parking garage. She was lost in thought but took some comfort in her partner’s proximity.

Coulson arrived with purposeful strides, still talking into his Bluetooth earpiece and typing on a tablet. He glanced up at each of them, eyes roving over their gear, Cap's bag with his shield, nodding in consent. He handed the keys to Barton without hesitation, sharing a brief look with Hawkeye, winking once. 

"We're on our way," he said to Sitwell. "Finish fueling the Quinjet and pack the good rations. No Calorie Mate or I'll find you on my return and hurt you."

He ended the call, slid into the passenger seat, and the mission began.

~*~

Loki watched Dr. Banner enter the suite’s living quarters. He saw the doctor regard the dampness of the tips of Loki’s hair, smell the soap from Stark’s skin in the air. His eyes regarded the marks Loki had put on the genius’ neck. It was glaringly obvious they’d just showered together. Loki could have made a snide comment about their obvious intimate acts earlier, but he knew that would not be wise nor appreciated by his lover.

Stark, on the other hand, welcomed the doctor warmly into their presence. It was clear they were very good friends. They both became calm and relaxed when the other was near. They were good for each other’s psyche, Loki realized. And yes, he was jealous of it.

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against a smooth edge of the bar. “Have you discovered a solution to the problem, doctor?”

“I’ve been working constantly on it,” Bruce admitted. 

“And?”

“I, uh, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news,” he said, looking at Tony, “but whatever Loki’s doing, it’s really not fixing your condition, just keeping the symptoms manageable. I’ve been monitoring your blood work and --”

“I am helping him,” Loki interrupted, pushing off from the bar to stand upright to defend himself. “Stark is still standing by the sheer force of my will and my energies.”

“Wow, thank you for that revelation, Mr. Modesty.”

Tony laughed, which irritated Loki more. “Tell me, Dr. Banner. What have you done for him, aside from taking his blood and tissues and looking at them under a microscope? What have you contributed to prolonging Stark’s life?”

Bruce bit at his bottom lip. “You know, the big green part of me wants to tear you to tiny pieces, but the human side of me hates to admit that you are right. I haven’t discovered any scientific solution to cure the poison. There has to be a way to counteract this, but it’s not here, not on our planet. We have to look elsewhere.” 

“I’m shocked,” Loki finally admitted, “that it is you who has confirmed the truth in my previous words.”

“You and me both, but that doesn’t help Tony live. You have to do more.” 

“It is time we resolve Stark's issue,” Thor spoke regally. “You have both had time to discern all you can about it and have, no doubt, come to conclusions. Let Stark hear what you both have to say about his condition along with your ideas for treatment. He will choose and then I will see his will carried out. I know we are all eager to resolve this and restore his health. We came together to help Agent Coulson and we will do the same with Tony Stark.”

Thor did not have to see Loki to know his brother would comply. He merely heard shuffling of clothing as Loki sat on a bar stool and waited his turn, knowing Thor would let Dr. Banner speak first if Stark agreed.

“Wow, well said, Thor. Thanks, big guy.” Tony crossed to the bar and poured himself a whiskey, ignoring Bruce’s disapproving stare. He perched on the end of the sofa and steeled himself for the bad news. Denial was great and all, but just looking at his arm in the shower and the effort it took to even walk across the room was alarming. He knew he was screwed. That didn’t stop him from affecting an air of nonchalance about the whole thing. Old habits were hard to break. Almost died before, been there and done that, too many times to count.

“So hit me. What are my options? Oh and how long have do I have left, because I’ve got one hell of a funeral to arrange. I want four-star all the way: Professional mourners throwing themselves on my gold coffin, massive and lavish floral arrangements to panic every florist in the state, oh and I want enough booze to float a barge for my mourners to imbibe.”

“Not funny,” Bruce replied, rubbing the stubble on his chin as his anxiety built. “You’re not funny at all, Stark. But can I keep the car?”

Bruce heard the genius chuckle and watched as Tony took another sip of alcohol. Why scold him when it really didn’t matter in the end? He looked into Tony’s eyes before finally speaking

“Okay, I admit. It’s not looking good. You’re, well, what I’ve seen under the scope, the poison is changing you on a cellular level. It’s turning your tissue into something not of this world. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Bruce said with the fascination of a geneticist. “It doesn’t respond dramatically to anything to neutralize it in any concentration by any agent known to man. It’s like… like a curse or something out of a fairytale.”

Bruce looked over his shoulder at Loki. “Is it? Is this a curse?”

“Well, yes.” Loki raised his chin as if to meet a challenge. “It is despair and torment, a sinner’s bane. Does this not fit mankind’s definition of a curse?”

“Fuck.” Bruce exhaled loudly and looked back at Tony. “I got nothing. I don’t know how to counteract a curse, Tony. I mean, I spoke with a couple of bio-techs at SHEILD, and we agree that we can detoxify the heavy metals in it to balance the pH and then work on the--”

“My turn,” Loki said, standing confidently. He came towards where Tony sat and stood in front of him. 

Tony was forced to look up into Loki’s eyes. He didn’t like what he saw there. The billionaire saw his own mortality. His eyes were sincere, his brief pause gentle, but his words were daggers.

“You are dying, Stark. The poison is thickening your blood, turning it into black sludge that will clog your heart until it slows to a stop. Your joints are turning into sand to grind against muscle that will harden like stone. Your bones will become brittle and break with the slightest pressure. The more it replicates inside your body, the closer you come to death. I can taste it on your skin, smell it on your breath. You know what I say is true.”

“How is that supposed to help,” Bruce asked indignantly. His body language was defensive on Tony’s behalf. He moved towards the engineer to try to lend some comfort.

“Listen to his proposal,” Thor defended. “Loki knows the details of this poison because he experienced the condition himself. It was designed to debilitate and cause untoward agony to an Asgardian. It was not designed to kill but to humiliate with weakness and distract with constant pain. But for a Midgardian…”

Thor's unspoken apology hung in the air. “Brother, have you an idea?”

“I do, but it is entirely up to Stark,” Loki said, never breaking eye contact with the man on the couch.

Tony slammed the rest of his drink and wished he’d grabbed the whole bottle. Loki’s intense gaze was unsettling and Tony just knew he would not like what Loki was about to propose. "Alright, let's have it."

“You can give me approval for a quick fix, but the final answer lies in Asgard.”

“You said you can’t go to Asgard,” Bruce mentioned.

“The Bifrost remains closed to us,” Loki continued. “We cannot reach Asgard until I can conjure another dark portal. When I can do so, I will send Thor for a cure. Neither Frigga nor Odin will refuse to relinquish it when they discover it has affected a Midgardian. But until then, we need time, and with that time, we need a more effective way to transfer energy to you.”

Loki walked to the bar and retrieved the decanter. He brought it back to Stark and poured some of the amber liquid into the man’s empty tumbler. “This whisky is what you would see as healing energy. It originates from a much larger source – me. This glass is you, and what pours out of me and into you is very little at the moment.”

Stark downed the alcohol immediately, wincing slightly as he swallowed.

Loki’s grin was razor sharp. “And just as quickly, you ask more from me because you are empty again.”

He poured Stark another glass. “Eventually, the source is tapped out as well. That is how we've been managing this past week. I give you what I have until you drain me. Lately, it is not a pleasant experience for either of us."

Thor did not appear entertained. “The solution, Loki.”

“It is not what I would want for myself or for Stark, but we have little choice” he preempted, capping the decanter and setting it on a table. He was edgy before he spoke, thinking of Frigga and how her life hinged on his ability to save the diseased man.

“Thor, you know of the warrior spell that temporarily binds two as one. It allows them to share endurance, strength, and efficiency in battle. It would even out our energies, rather than a constant drain of me to him. This I can cast with items found on here on earth.”

“No. That is dangerous, Loki. When we used it in Svartalfheim years ago, we almost –”

“Is there another option?” Loki said sharply. “I wish to bind myself to no one, but I am left with little choice here. Time is running out for Stark, and as you pointed out last night, this is all there is. We must find a solution, and I am offering one.” 

"I am far from content with this," Thor answered. Loki seemed like he was trying to make noble choices but something about it left him uneasy.

“Wait. You're not making sense," Bruce said, incredulously. “You just pointed out that neither of you have anything to give to each other anymore, energy-wise. Your well of magic has run dry. So why would Tony even agree to such a thing?”

“Because I can keep Stark alive, while recovering my stores of strength. He will share in that force as it grows within me. And when I am able, I will send Thor to Asgard to return with the cure. Stark will be whole again, I will break the warrior’s bond, all will return to the status quo.”

“Uh, yeah. What’s the catch,” Bruce asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Loki. “Like, where are you suddenly going to get juiced up enough to continually share with Tony until you can miraculously zap Thor home to find this unknown cure and suddenly resolve everything?”

“All I need,” Loki said innocently, “is to share the energies of duel arc reactors. I need access to a device of my own.”

The room fell dead silent.

Tony’s fingers gripped the glass as his chest tightened painfully. There it was… the heart attack that the billionaire always knew would eventually take him out. He wouldn't have to worry about the poison after all.

All Stark could see was Obadiah looming over him, device in hand, ripping the reactor out of his chest.

He tried to breathe but could not seem to force air into his lungs. Tony staggered up and made his way over to the large windows. He leaned against the glass and tried to halt the progression of the panic attack approaching.

One part of Tony’s brain could see the merit to Loki’s suggestion, but the bulk of it was frozen in the ‘fuck no, my tech’ litany that was repeating itself over and over. Tony had been used too many times in the past for his brilliant mind and his drive to create. What made Loki any different?

Power was power, and the trickster made no bones about the fact that he desperately coveted the nearly unlimited source sitting in Tony’s chest.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” Bruce replied. He pointed at the dark prince and laughed, not paying attention to Tony, who was in need of guidance and reassurance. All Bruce saw was Loki with his helm of horns and his army of aliens while they destroyed lives and blocks of New York City. “You really think any of us would just give you unlimited power again? We saw what you did with that scepter. Do you really think we are that foolish, Loki?”

“It will be easier for me to convert like to like, arc reactor energy to arc reactor energy. All I have to do is lace my healing arts into its sequence. The device in Stark’s body should recognize and accept its own form of energy much easier than my past attempts. Even you cannot refute the logic in that, Banner.”

Bruce was seeing green. “I’d say 'over my dead body' but I can’t even go there.”

Thor narrowed his eyes at the doctor. “Wait. I was told you cannot die, that the same serum that made your Captain is inside you. Why can't we utilize that to prolong Stark's life?”

“Oh no. No. Tony is not... There’s no way I’d ever let him near a serum knock off. Many have tried to replicate that formula and have failed miserably. When given a dose large enough to mess with mortality, they end up like me, or worse. Steve Rogers is the anomaly. The serum is unpredictable. He could just as easily become like Blonsky,” Bruce exclaimed. “I’d rather let Tony die than to see him turned into something that monstrous. So, no, the serum is not an option. I would never allow that.”

“Then my solution is still the only one available with a desirable outcome,” Loki pointed out. "Time is running out, and not one of us in this room wants that to occur."

“While true, I must agree with the doctor’s concerns,” Thor stated, facing Loki. “Look at the destruction you wrought on their world the last time you were given significant power to wield.”

“I was not myself then,” Loki said between gritted teeth. "I have proven my trustworthiness by maintaining the peace in this Tower and beyond with Fury's assault, have I not?"

“And attempting to destroy the race of Jotuns?”

“You too attempted to destroy the Frost Giants with war,” Loki shouted. “I deserve no more punishment than you paid for your sin.”

“Perhaps that is true, but my concern about your treatment of Midgardians remains,” Thor admitted. “Yet my dread over Stark's health takes priority.”

"You said you would abide by his choice," Loki reminded, turning to face Tony. "So what say you, Stark? Make your decision.”

Tony heard it all. Despite his incipient fear at the remedies proposed, what choice did he have?

For the first time in his life, Tony’s cavalier disregard for his own life had come back to bite him in the ass. All joking aside, there was one thing Tony knew for certain. He turned from the window and spoke in a breathless, defeated tone.

“I don’t want to die.”

“Then allow me save you.” This was it, Loki’s moment of triumph. Thor knew it. Banner did too. Loki had seduced Stark, broken him down, backed the man into a corner, and then forced the engineer to his will. Loki could almost feel the power of the arc reactor in the palm of his hand. He would have the very thing he set his sights on mere minutes after he arrived back on this forsaken planet just over a week ago.

Loki held Stark’s gaze. It should have felt natural, the familiar sensation of a game well played, won with shrewd cunning and determination on his part. What he did not expect was this deep sense of unease when he looked at the suffering man. He truly didn't want the man to die. He could let Stark perish. He would feel sorrow and regret for what could’ve been, what should have been done to repay Stark’s generosity, but Loki could move on. Soon, Tony Stark could be just a memory.

But again, where could he go where they would not follow? And what of Frigga? If Loki failed to find redemption, he feared what would become of his beloved mother.

There was really no place for Loki, aside from Stark Tower with this man at this moment in time. Even then, nothing was certain. But here, he had an ally, someone who intrigued and challenged him, someone who had, undoubtedly, won his affection. Someone he wanted to protect from death’s embrace. That was a rare find.

The truth was, Loki would not forsake him. The man had shown him compassion he hadn't known in far too long. He wanted the man for his mind as well as his body. 

Stark was the only thing right in Loki's life in a very long time. 

He walked to stand in front of the trembling man until he was the only one in Tony’s line of sight.

“If you reject my offer," he said sympathetically, "you will die. I have had every opportunity to betray you. I could have simply taken what I wanted and left you for dead many times over, yet, I have not. I have offered you more of myself than I have to any other in many lifetimes. So the question is, do you trust me, Tony Stark?"

Tony hesitated. He was screwed no matter what. The romantic in him wanted to trust Loki, to hope that the trickster felt any form of affection for the ailing billionaire. Te pragmatist saw how horribly wrong it could all still go.

And what if Tony refused to extend the trust Loki was asking for? He’d be just another person to doubt Loki in a sea of others who shaped the god into the broken being before him. Tony wanted to believe Loki could change. He wanted Loki to obtain the redemption that he glimpsed in the trickster eyes, that yearning to belong, to be accepted for who he was.

So with all the conviction Tony could put into his voice, he accepted. “Alright. I'll trust you, even when no one else does. I will believe in you, Loki.”

And there it was, Tony laid bare, leaving his life in the hands of one who had the power to hurt him horribly. He’d never, with the exception of Rhodey, trusted anyone as much. It was equally terrifying and exhilarating.

Bruce turned and walked to the window. If Loki's plan would stop the deterioration in Tony long enough for Bruce to discover something not yet tapped into, then he would reluctantly agree to this option. Then they could deal with Loki and take back the loaned reactor.

And Loki had made relevant points. The trickster could've simply plucked Tony's current device out of his chest many times over and been long gone. There had to be something tying Loki down and forcing him to behave, Bruce just hadn't found a way to exploit it yet.

"Can't you, I don't know, limit the reactor," Bruce asked Tony. "Give it some boundaries or limit its use to the perimeter of Stark Tower or something?"

Loki scowled in disbelief. "You want to try and limit unlimited energy. Why do such a thing when I am trying to save your friend's life?"

"I must ask about restraint as well," Thor added, striding closer to his sibling. "You must admit, once Stark is well, you are quite the flight risk, Loki. I cannot imagine you relinquishing so powerful a device. By then, you will have no doubt become an expert at wielding it to suit your purposes."

"My purposes? I haven't had time to think beyond this problem! Moreover, I don't have to answer to either of you," Loki snarled. "This matter is between Stark and myself. He has made his choice and we must begin making preparations. So leave."

Bruce and Thor outright ignored Loki's fit and looked to Tony for a response.

“Okay, just let me think.” Tony took a deep breath, then another. He truly wanted to trust Loki. Said he would with a desperation that alarmed him. But despite his plea to the Trickster, deep down Tony also knew Bruce and Thor were right. To put that kind of power in Loki’s hands, even to save his own life, was concerning. 

“Look, all of the arc reactors have kill switch built in.”

“What?”

“After the debacle with Stane,” he explained to Bruce, “I never wanted another reactor to fall into the wrong hands again.”

“Okay,” Bruce finally said, feeling a bit better. “So why don’t you look happy about this?”

“Well, the kill switch would blow a small hole in my chest, but that’s better that than my invention used to power a weapon of mass destruction, right?”

“Jesus, Tony.”

“In the event of my death, Jarvis is instructed to use said switch to destroy all my backups and melt the one powering the Tower into useless slag. So there is a repression protocol,” Tony said, looking at Loki, “I’d just rather not use it to destroy the one thing I created that can actually make the world a better place.”

Using the reactor as a source of clean energy to fuel the future was just a pipe dream, until he could be completely reassured that his invention would not be weaponized. Pepper kept pushing the issue. She had the company’s future in mind. With energy tech like that, it would catapult Stark International into the stratosphere. But she didn’t understand. No one did. The nightmares Tony’s fertile mind could conjure featuring the ways his invention could be twisted were exhausting.

And a different version of Loki featured in some of those nightmares.

“But what choice do I have really?” Tony asked. He kept his gaze on Loki’s face. “Please understand what this means to me. What this means to this planet. I’m giving you the kind of trust that goes way beyond the short week we’ve gotten know each other. This is like, soul-deep kind of trust. A "Karma better be watching closely" kind of trust.”

“It sounds like you don’t actually trust me at all.”

“Don’t twist this,” Tony immediately demanded. “Show me you are who I believe you to be.” 

Loki worked hard to silence his anger, for selfish reasons along with Tony’s needs. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“Okay,” Tony said, clapping his hands together loudly and turning to Bruce and Thor. “So it’s settled. Any questions from the audience, protests, tantrums, because I’m dying to hear them. Literally,” Tony said, humorlessly.

“There would be none. This is your choice,” Loki supplied. “Thor, I will send you to retrieve the things I need while Stark prepares a reactor necessary to do the spell. Then, I must have time to learn how to convert the device's power into a form I can utilize."

“We shall have a laborious but productive evening,” Thor said, sharing an arduous look with Dr. Banner before focusing on Tony. “By next morning's light, you should no longer feel the torment of the poison.”

“That sounds like a good dream,” Tony said, this whole thing feeling more akin to a nightmare. “I’ve got to go to the workshop and make the modifications on the arc reactor.” 

He glanced at Loki, feeling guilty for his nearly-physically ill reaction at the thought of putting the device at the trickster’s disposal. But if anyone knew the risks, it was Tony. He’d been tortured, bled, and nearly killed by those who tried to take his tech. Fuck Loki, if he didn’t understand how hard it was to relinquish his invention’s power. 

“I’ll let you know when it’s ready,” he said. He turned his back and retreated to the comfort of his shop, perhaps for the last time.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG it's an update! Love all you guys for your patience.

Thor returned with a knapsack full of items at Loki’s request.

Between Darcy Lewis’ help with shopkeepers, and navigation provided by Stark’s servant, the arcane objects and tools were gathered in an hour’s time within the heart of Manhattan.

The worst part was Ms. Lewis constantly asking how Loki would use said items to cast a spell. The woman’s curiosity matched her vivacity. On their excursion, Thor had chuckled and smiled more than he had in a while. It felt good to do so.

Many of Loki’s requested instruments were familiar to him; substances and crystals used to boost Loki’s enchantments. He understood that with them, his brother could temporarily augment a warrior’s performance.

Thor had found his own experience with the spell to be exhilarating. But there was also a constant sense of being on the edge of uncontrollable wilds. Thor attributed it to being connected to Loki during the battle. He still wasn’t certain if it was his brother’s frenzied temperament bleeding through their binding or the spell itself. Either way, Thor had requested release from the union almost immediately upon their success of the battle.

He thought to warn Tony Stark about this odd sense of wild abandonment but decided against it. It could have simply been the heat of the battle, and Stark’s experience could be entirely different. Moreover, the Midgardian had no other option than to allow this temporary binding if he wanted to survive.

Back in the Tower and watching his brother now, Thor paused. He had never failed to recognize how much this brother contributed their successes in battle, but he wondered if he should have given great compliment to Loki’s skills more often and out loud. He and the Warriors Three never hesitated to employ Loki’s skills, but did they give thanks as freely as they did to each other?

Loki sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the small library, furniture pushed aside to give ample space to meditate, unencumbered by physical confines. The sun streamed through the large windows onto Loki’s lap where his elegant hands lay still and open.

Thor had tried to appreciate how Loki spent his time in mediation. His brother explained to him that while Thor would train his muscles to wield Mjolnir, so Loki must do with his mind and his magic, repeatedly mentally reciting the formless language of complicated spells.

He would never truly understand Loki’s abilities and how they were performed, though their mother and father would. And Odin certainly appreciated the power his dark son could wield. But as for Thor, he just knew that he needed Loki at his side in battle to protect his back and scheme in their favor. Battling Loki should never happen again. The experience was immensely disturbing and caused Thor no small amount of pain. Looking at him now, remembering the strife they had recently faced, Thor felt a great sense of sorrow. That devoted little brother was truly gone. This was a new person. 

Loki’s eyes opened slowly as if surfacing from a deep sleep. His body was still, lax and unguarded. Because of that, Thor felt some sense of privilege, as if Loki might still trust him.

“Did you return with everything I need?”

“I did.” Thor stepped forward and placed the knapsack beside Loki’s knee. “What more?”

The trickster opened the bag and peered inside, raising a bag of herbs to his nose to sniff. “This will have to do.”

Thor stepped back, watching Loki inspect each crystal, candle, crushed root and flower. “You had none of these when you and I were bound by this spell. Why do you need them now?”

“These are for Stark’s benefit, not mine, Thor. Midgardians are not made for magic,” Loki explained. “Once I have my own arc reactor, I can begin practicing with that. In the mean time, I will make a tincture for Stark. It will help calm him and open his mind to the process. The rest I will use when I cast. His body is very weak and will need every assistance available to accept this augmentation.”

“Could he die in the process?”

Loki looked up at Thor. “Not while I live.”

Thor nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you spoken to him?”

“No. You?”

Thor shook his head. “I came straight here. I believe Dr. Banner has been watching over him while I was gone.”

Loki nodded. He stood gracefully with very little effort. When they first arrived at Stark’s Tower, Thor was not certain he would ever see his brother healthy again. It was a good sight. They had their mother to thank for that, and most certainly Tony Stark.

“Do you feel affection for him,” he asked hesitantly, “or is Stark merely a means to an end?”

Loki’s shoulders tensed. He took a deep breath and exhaled before turning to face Thor, face guarded. “Would you believe me if I answered?”

Thor rolled his eyes. It was frustrating to play this game - When to Believe a Liar. “Tell me the truth, brother.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“It matters to all of us, Loki. Your choices here and now –”

“Oh stop this,” Loki said with weariness. “I grow tired of your accusations and reminders of my failures.”

“Just answer me,” Thor implored with life-long weariness.

Loki held up a beeswax candle at eye level, focusing on the wick. It burst into a bright green flame, wild and unbridled. Then it calmed to become a steady, warm, and unwavering light. “There is your answer. That is what I feel for Stark. ”

“And how soon will that flame extinguish?”

Thor was staggered to see a flash of sadness in Loki’s eyes. It was then that the realization hit. Thor had finally received the response he sought. He smiled kindly, pleased that Loki could still feel affection for another. “You care greatly. You cannot hide it from me, brother.”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki jabbed with no malice. “Perhaps you should ask Stark about his intentions. His mortal heart is far more fickle than mine.”

Thor continued to gaze fondly at his brother. This was the Loki he remembered, one who delighted in a single lover at a time, who seduced and gave all his attention and charms to while the relationship was favorable.

But then Thor’s face slowly fell. Rejection, at this point in Loki’s healing, might be catastrophic. Thor had spent his concern on Stark, thinking the mortal might be the one in danger of heartache, but looking at Loki now, Thor wondered if his concern had been ill placed. Just as Loki said, it was Stark who could bring this to ruin.

“I shall leave you to it then,” he said, motioning to the items in the bag. He wasn’t surprised to receive nothing but silence from his brother. Loki had already returned to his task at hand. Thor didn’t object. Better that so he could do some snooping of his own about Stark's intentions.

He left to quickly make his way to the door to Stark's shop and paused, looking up as if he could see Jarvis. "May I enter? I wish an audience with Tony Stark."

~*~

Tony entered the workshop. He had a lot to do before Thor returned with the components for Loki’s binding spell. The thought of that went against everything his scientific and analytical mind could process. Tony knew magic existed now, he had ample proof, but part of him itched to dissect it, quantify it, and discover how it all worked.

The engineer ignored the dizziness and nausea as he crossed the room to his wall safe. It was built to withstand a nuclear blast and made so only Tony could access the contents. He quickly cleared the necessary security protocols and opened the reinforced door. Nestled inside were two complete arc reactors and the components for two more. He was paranoid to the point of having a back up for his back up. The reactors inside the suits that now made his Legion were part of the armor. They couldn’t be detached and used separate from their unit. So if he needed another arc reactor for himself, he’d have to head to Malibu and the particle accelerator that still resided in his workshop there. 

Good thing Pepper hadn’t realized the danger of having that particular piece of hardware on the premises.

Tony grabbed one of the reactors and closed the safe. He brought it over to a work table and sat down heavily. He also knew he’d been followed. Of course, everyone was worried he’d keel over any second. Truthfully, he didn't feel very far from it.

“Have a seat, Bruce.” Tony tiredly acknowledged as he began the tedious process of modifying the reactor. "This may take a while."

Bruce had already wandered over to the couch. With Tony's acknowledgement, he sat, reaching for the tablet on the small table near by. "Can I?"

At Tony's absent nod of permission, he pulled up some of the current lab results that he'd left running in downstairs while Tony went to work.

First, Tony disabled the self destruct, because no one really wanted that to happen in a small confined space. Then he adjusted the output of the coils to modulate the conductive energy. Jarvis would still have the self-destruct code to turn it into unusable slag if need be.

Tony disregarded the way his hands shook and cursed when he dropped his tools yet again. Dummy, hovering by his side, picked up the tiny implement and handed it back to his creator. He absently patted Dummy’s sensor array before beginning again.

“You might as well say it, Bruce, what a horrible idea this all is, about how my feelings for Loki are just a train wreck waiting to happen. Believe me, it's nothing I haven’t thought about before. Constantly. Maybe I am crazy.”

Tony sighed and rubbed his aching head. He laid the pieces of the reactor on the table and fought the urge to lay his head down beside them.

"Nah, I’m done with that song and dance," Bruce said sheepishly, chewing on a hangnail. "I just… I really thought science was the way to go here. I wanted… I guess I didn't want Loki to win. He got what he wanted and then some. All that power? I don't want to have to band together again to take him down, particularly if he has you bound to him.”

Tony instantly sobered at the thought of fighting Loki again.

"And exactly what does that mean?" Bruce questioned. "This bonding thing. Is this like some kind of Asgardian warrior wedding, because I'd make him wear the dress, if I were you."

Tony could not help the chuckle that slipped. It felt good.

“Well, Loki is lean enough to wear a dress well, but I don't think white is his color.”

“We’re going places I never wanted to go in my head.” 

“Noted. But seriously, what choice do I have here? I want this dying thing to end. At least with the palladium poisoning, I had a goal to work towards, build a better reactor. But with this? I got nothing. I can feel it eating away at me.”

“You just had to touch, didn’t you?”

“For science,” Tony stated, earning a chuckle from Bruce. “Pity I didn’t fall for you, huh? It would have made things so much easier. The Hulk already likes me.”

Bruce felt the heat rise in his face at the comment of who to appropriately fall for. He'd always appreciated Tony's friendship, coveted it, admittedly. But he'd never imagined… okay, well, maybe what they say about Tony Stark was true. He could make the straightest man question their sexuality. But Bruce couldn't get past the frustration that was Tony to ever imagine romantic feelings developing there. Still, it was a really nice compliment from Tony, even if it never happened.

To avoid more of the weird, and get back to the weirder, Bruce sat forward on the couch to talk more earnestly. "So, when you say "fall for," how deep does that actually go? I mean, if he… would you be able to fight with us against him, Tony? I mean, just for contingency's sake. He hasn't been the most truthful alien we've met."

“Hell, Bruce, I honestly have no clue. I love Pepper. I’m just not in love with her any more. Loki? He hit me like a ton of bricks. We’re more alike than I ever imagined. He challenges me, excites me, and makes me feel things I didn’t think possible after losing Pepper. I know TMI, but it’s the truth. And yeah, it might gut me to do so, but if Loki betrays us, I’ll do what I have to. I haven’t lost all sight of reality, just to make that clear.”

Tony’s hands slipped again and the housing clattered to the table top. “Damn it! Bruce, come here, please. I need an extra set of hands that aren’t shaking.”

Bruce was on his feet and at Tony's service immediately. He could actually smell traces of the overly-sweet scent of the poison now that he was near the engineer. Things were getting dire.

"What happens after this," Bruce asked, doing whatever Tony needed him to do with the components. "When Loki does his thing. What then?"

“Fuck all if I know. He casts his mojo and I feel better. I haven’t thought beyond that.”

"Because I was thinking," Bruce muttered, changing position to come up under the reactor for a better angle. "What's happening inside you is on a cellular level. Earlier, Loki wouldn't let me finish explaining, but I wanted to tell you that I dug around in some archives online from MIT. Maya Hansen's notes could provide some interesting options for reprogramming cells to regenerate in ways that may help you. If Loki's magic buys us some more time, we could take another look at working on this from a scientific angle. It would be nice to have another option, a plan B."

“Yeah, I hear you.”

Bruce honestly didn't want to tinker around with Tony's DNA on any level, but leaving him as is wasn't possible. "Besides, you don't want to be married to Loki forever, right?"

“I’m afraid the divorce settlement Loki would demand could bankrupt me. Seriously though, I know Maya’s work. I met her at a conference in Switzerland. She’s a brilliant biotechnologist. Showed me a regenerating plant that she’d altered on a cellular level. It had the annoying habit of spontaneously exploding. Said the process was unstable at that point. Then… er… we had other things to think about,” Tony said with a filthy grin.

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Exploding doesn't sound like a better option. The plant I mean," he said with another flush to his face. "But I like the thought of regeneration without the aid of a super serum."

Bruce switched positions and took the pliers offered by Tony. He held the parts together for the engineer while the man worked. "So, I think it would be worth it to revisit Dr. Hansen's research. I hope you two parted on the kind of terms that would allow for sharing of information easier. Or did you walk out before she woke up? Because in my, albeit limited experience, that's not what women like."

Tony winced. “I did leave her a note and thanked her for an awesome night… at least I think I did. I was a bit hung over at the time. I haven’t heard anything about Maya in, I guess, it would be ten years? She never published as far as I know. She could be working in the private sector. I can ask Jarvis to start some discreet inquiries.”

Tony deftly repositioned the miniscule wires inside the reactor, grateful for Bruce’s steady hands. He seemed to know without Tony asking what he needed him to do. It was fantastic to have him here, like a brother in science. 

"Okay, so now we have a plan B, but based on how you left that morning, I guess we may just need you to, you know, procure her data rather than ask her for it. The archives only have the bare bones of her thesis. I doubt she'd share willingly without demanding to know all the details behind your needs, but maybe Jarvis could… find the missing bulk of information?”

This was the one time Bruce would go the rogue route and steal someone's research. It was a worthy cause. He bit nervously at his lip.

“Are you suggesting we appropriate her data by less than ethical means? Bruce, I’m shocked! And also strangely aroused,” Tony said with a gleam in his eyes. “Way to go, you!”

“If that level of immorality excites you, no wonder you have big googly eyes for Loki."

“You have no idea.”

“Tony,” Bruce warned.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll have Jarvis look into it. Good use of my AI,” he said, bopping Bruce on the nose with his fingertip. The sour look he got in response was tinged with green. "Calm down, big guy.”

Bruce took a deep breath and released it. He felt like a scoundrel for suggesting trying to rip off another scientist's work, but it was all he had right now. It would take a lot of their time and effort to read and understand her data, confirm it, and then use her research to create something that would work for Tony's condition. It was just a thought, a long shot, a hope. Bruce didn't actually know how far Maya had gotten in her work. He knew it could've already been a failed process. But it was all he could think to offer at this point.

At least Tony thought it was worth looking into.

“Okay, I think I got it all finished." Tony let go of the tiny soldering tool and laid it on the table. He sat back, took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "It shouldn’t blow up now. I'll just place it back in the casing and we’re ready for delivery.”

Bruce backed up out of the engineer's personal space and looked at him. Frowning, he put his hand to Tony's forehead. When he pulled it away, it had perspiration from the man's brow but also traces of black toxin.

"We need to move faster," he said, showing Tony that he was now sweating poison. "I wonder how Loki is progressing with his side of the plan?"

Tony looked at Bruce’s stained fingers. He could literally feel his clock ticking down. “Guess it's a good thing we’re going to fix this tonight. Looks like I’m running out of time."

"Excuse me,” Jarvis interrupted. “Thor is asking for an audience with you, sir."

"Sure. Let him in.”

"Tony Stark," Thor said, entering the shop with authority. "I wish to speak with you about future relations with my brother."

“Well, seeing as how I doubt I could even get it up at this point, I think your brother’s virtue is safe.” Tony opted for inappropriate humor since inside he was suddenly almost overcome with anxiety about his imminent demise.

Thor approached and frowned, seeing the darkness dotting Stark's brow.

"I am not speaking of your dalliances. Well, I am, but it is more than that. I can see we have little time left to discuss this matter," he said, looking to Banner for confirmation, "but your health is more important at the moment. Loki is ready to begin practicing with the reactor if you are still willing."

“Still willing to do what it takes to live to see the morning. Yep.” 

"I’m going back down to the infirmary to get everything prepared,” Bruce said. “Tell Loki to hurry. We’re cutting it close."

"He knows this, but we cannot not rush him," Thor said with offense. "This is the most important thing Loki has done in a while. He will not fail, but he must not be rushed. Magic is an exact process. We don't want Stark to end up in a worse condition."

“Worse than this?” Tony said wryly. 

“The only thing worse would be dead," Bruce supplied.

"You’re wrong,” Thor said. “You've obviously never seen magic backfire.”

"Well, shit. Okay.” Tony stood with shaking legs and went to his compatriot in all things science-y. He was not a hugger, really, but he figured this situation warranted it. He placed his hands on Bruce’s shoulders and pulled him in for a very grateful embrace. “Thanks. I mean that. I’m glad you’re here. You’re the one bit of sanity in this whole fucked up mess. I just wanted you to know that. Get everything ready. We’ll be down in a short while to finish this.”

Bruce was as surprised at the gesture as Tony seemed giving it. It was awkward and weird, but also good. Like a first kiss but not. He tried to recall Tony hugging anyone but Bruce couldn't come up with the statistics. It was over almost as soon as it began, not giving the geneticist time to respond properly.

The Hulk chuckled.

"This… was that? If that was goodbye, I don't accept," Bruce finally managed, repositioning his glasses awkwardly. It was simply a thank you, something Bruce had wanted to hear all along. He managed a genuine smile and met Tony's eyes. "I'll see you soon and we’ll get you through this. All of us."

Tony nodded and stepped back, watching as Bruce left, feeling much better that he managed to wipe the gloomy look off the doctor’s face.

“Okay, Thor. Take me to Loki. I have a little present for him.” Tony carefully walked to the staircase, feeling dizzier with each step. "Maybe the elevator would be a better idea, yeah?”

Thor slipped his arm under Stark's. “Allow me to assist you.” 

“Just do not pick me up bridal style or I swear I’ll punch you.”

"You have my word," Thor said, chuckling. "I am glad to see there is still fire inside of you, Tony Stark. I know my brother is not what you would want for a savior, but he is all I have to offer."

“I care about Loki, more than I thought I would," Tony said getting a little short of breath. "He has a way of getting under your skin, you know?”

“Indeed, I do.”

“He can see right through me, to who I really am. Not many make the effort.”

Thor stopped walking.

"I must warn you, Stark. My brother plays for keeps, if you understand that childish phrase," he explained. "Even if Loki were to leave Midgard right now, in his mind, you will belong to him."

"Uh, belong?"

"In Asgard," Thor continued, "Loki and I have claimed many servants, lovers, and villages as our own and expect their loyalty in return. There are many benefits bestowed to our subjects: protection, wealth, prestige. Tis not the hardship Midgardians seem to interpret from our meaning of proprietorship."

“We don’t do slavery well here on earth.”

“It is not enslavement,” Thor defended. “It is prosperity and favor in return for devotion to Asgard.”

“Devotion to Loki.”

That gave Thor pause. “Loki’s name used to be synonymous with the sovereigns of Asgardian…”

“Now? Not so much,” Tony said. He shrugged his shoulders and then patted Thor on the back. “Look, I figured Loki would be the possessive type. I knew I was playing with fire when I got involved. But I trust him. Despite everything he’s been through, I think Loki just needs someone to believe in him. We’ve all fucked up. I certainly have. People have been slaughtered in my name, or my family’s name. It screws you up when you want to make amends for something so enormous but there isn’t a way. Pepper never understood my demons. I think maybe Loki does."

Thor saw this man through new eyes. “I am no saint, Stark. I know shame. But I cannot say I have the weight on me from my past sins that you and Loki still carry. Perhaps you are kindred spirits. But know I fear for you both.”

“That’s comforting,” Tony muttered sarcastically.”

Thor hauled him up another step. "One more thing, Stark. I do not envy you what is to come with this spell, and know that I will do everything in my power to fix this once and for all. But in the meantime, I must beseech you to tread lightly. Loki's mind is still fragile, his dreams are still haunted and his pride is greatly wounded."

"Do we have to continue talking about feelings?" Tony asked, using his other hand on the railing to pull himself up the stairs. "Is this your brotherly way warning me to treat your brother right or you’ll kick my ass?”

“More like, ‘I will end you’,” Thor guaranteed. “What’s more likely is he would destroy you first and all that you hold dear. And that is where my fear lies.”

“Yeah, right,” Tony said, pit in his stomach. “Well, I have no intention on hurting Loki. I need his help and he needs mine. It is a mutual arrangement and it would benefit neither of us to go back on our word. We can trust in that much.” 

Thor heard Tony's words but they were uttered without deep understanding of what was to come. The depth and sheer weight of Loki himself was a burden he knew well. How could he explain that to Stark? There were so many mistakes, so much life lived - hundred of years of it. There were stories Stark would never hear. There were reasons for Loki's behavior that Thor himself couldn't even compartmentalize but he’d been there to witness to its birth. It made sense because he’d experienced it with Loki. How could he possibly enlighten someone who hadn’t been there?

But what mattered was that Stark appeared to genuinely care for the person Loki presented right now.

"I will also warn you," Thor continued, "when you give Loki that device, and he is of full health again…" 

“Yes?”

Thor let slip a chuckle made of both mirth and malice. "You have not met that side of him yet. His mischief is both a maddening and enjoyable spectacle."

“Now you’ve intrigued me.”

"He was not given the moniker of "God of Mischief" because of his serenity," Thor began. He laughed at a distant memory in their childhood but then quickly sobered. "You met Loki after he was terrorized and forced into action by those who abused and threatened him. And again, when I brought him here merely a week ago, he was jaded and unkind and manipulative - still is the latter and always will be. But my point, Stark, there is a playful charm to him you have yet to experience. I fear you'll find what amuses Loki is not always amusing to everyone else."

“Truthfully, I’m looking forward to it. I’ve seen Loki at his worst. If this spell goes right, maybe I’ll get to see him at his best.” 

“We shall see,” Thor said with a grin. “Here we are.”

Tony had never been so glad to see the library door in his life. He felt like he’d just run a marathon, and if he hung onto Thor a little too tightly, well it was no hardship really because, Christ, that man was made of steel.

“Honey, we’re home,” he called out, still being mostly supported by Thor. “Did you miss me?”

~*~ 

Loki’s mind was racing.

He never thought he’d feel this flurry of anticipation or rush of promise ever again. His palms were sweaty and his heart was hammering in his chest. The dark prince stood and paced the library like a caged lion. He desperately craved the independence the arc reactor would provide. To have his freedom so close and so far away was maddening.

He’d melted down nearly all the candles into various figurines and shapes, some vulgar, just to pass the time. He should’ve saved his energies for Stark but he could not control his eagerness to begin and then complete this spell. He had also tried to meditate, rehearsing the spell in his mind over and over again, refining each utterance, honoring the meaning in its concept, but he could no longer hold still.

The room seemed to vibrate with his hunger for liberation. 

All he could do was linger in this library, waiting for Stark, waiting and hoping the man had not become disillusioned with his plan.

He’d made the tonic for Stark from crushed herbs and minerals with archaic enchantments spoken over them. It would calm and open the man’s mind. It would also allow Loki to hide a second spell within the first intended. One would save the man’s life, the other would allow Loki to manipulate his mind should the need ever arise.

It was a failsafe, an insurance policy against duplicity, and Loki needed no justification in his mind for this. He’d been betrayed almost to his death most recently and he’d not have it happen again.

It was no more than self preservation. No more than what Stark was doing right now in his laboratory with the arc reactor that would be given to Loki.

Then, the library doors opened and Thor and Stark were there. 

He almost thought it was his imagination. Blood rushed through his body at the thought of the reactor finally being delivered to his hand.

Loki spun on his heel and headed towards the door, stopping short when he saw how heavily the man was leaning on Thor.

“You are unwell,” Loki stated, his excitement stymied by Stark’s appearance. "There is little time left."

“No shit. I kinda figured that when I started to sweat out black goo. But here’s the reactor like I promised. Let’s concentrate on the most important thing right now, namely saving my life.” 

Tony, still being supported by Thor, held out the fruit of his creative genius. Oddly, he couldn’t get his fingers to release their death grip on the reactor.

He was literally giving up a piece of himself in a way that could go so horribly wrong for everyone present. Tony just had to be true to his word and trust Loki. 

“Here. Take it.” Tony said with as much conviction as he could muster.

Without hesitation, Loki reached for it, his entire body feeling as if it was wading through mud, holding him back from what he wanted most.

When his elegant fingers curled around the device, it sparked. No longer fearing the power within it, Loki closed his hand tightly around the glowing reactor, including Stark's hand in the contact.

Then Loki laughed in childlike wonder, challenging Stark with keen eyes and a wide grin.

"I know you can feel that," he said, directing the energy up the man's arm and into his body, reaching for the matching reactor in Stark's chest. "This is much more beneficial, don't you think? Less pain, more efficiency."

Tony jumped when he felt the power twine up his arm like a snake, twisting and winding through muscle and bone. The sensation wasn’t exactly pleasant. It was an odd mix of heat and cold, one that left him tingling as if from a static shock. He was tempted to pull his hand out of Loki’s grasp and shake his fiercely stinging fingers.

“So what happens now?” Tony asked a bit breathlessly, unable to come up with a snarky response to Loki’s obvious glee at getting something he coveted. Still, he met Loki’s eyes, and what he saw was a glimpse of the Loki that Thor spoke of, of a being who gloried in the power of his own magic, albeit augmented by Tony’s invention.

"Now, we play." Loki bit his lip to try to stifle his mirth but he could not contain it when the circuit was completed and he tapped into both reactors. His grin was full of mischief. Then things began to float off the tables and shelves.

“Loki,” Thor warned.

“Seriously, you start doing the ‘evil sorcerer laugh,’ and you are going to totally freak me out,” Tony said. “Next will come the monologuing, and that’s never a good sign.” 

"Loki," Thor scolded again, placing his large hand over both of theirs. "Save your tricks for another time. Your energies should be spent on Stark."

His face crumpled, as if Thor had stepped on his favorite toy. All the light between them dissipated and Loki reined in the energy from the reactors.

"Spoilsport," he said with obvious disgust. A vase and a picture frame shattered as they hit the ground and a small book shelf toppled over. His pout turned into a scowl and he looked down his nose at Stark.

"I cannot help you if you do not let it go," he said, referring to the man's tight grip on the device.

“Oh, yeah, right. I’ll just, ah, I’m trying, really.” Damn it! Tony could not allow his fingers to open. To give this up was something Tony swore he’d never do and it seemed his subconscious would not budge.

Loki rolled his shoulders to release the tension that had built up. He met Thor's eyes for only a moment, avoiding the accusations there. Finally, Loki sighed heavily and released Stark's hand. It pained him greatly but he could see there was no use, unless he wanted to force it from the man's hand, and Thor would not like that approach at all.

The trickster turned away and walked to a nearby table. He fished out a small bottle of tonic from between some crystals near a mortar and pestle. Everything glittered and appeared to glow with a life of its own. The tonic was even neon green with flecks of bright red within, like beads of blood trapped in radioactive amber.

"I have a gift for you," he said innocently, eyeing the small glass vial with simple cork stopper. "No tricks. Thor can attest to its contents, since he retrieved the elements not long ago from local merchants."

Thor appeared anxious. "Its purpose is to calm you and open your mind to the binding spell, Tony Stark. I believe it will not harm you to consume this."

Loki's eyes flitted between them, a slight smirk contradicting his intended sincerity.

"Come. Sit down," Loki beckoned to the Midgardian, perching on the edge of a two-person settee. "Let me remind you of our common goal."

Damn but Tony was fairly mesmerized by this version of Loki. So full of life and practically glowing from the force of his own magic. And it was all focused on him. The pied piper had nothing on the trickster god beckoning him.

“This stuff, I drink it right? It’s going to taste nasty I just know it. Any incentives, because magical potions are so out of my realm of experience here.” 

Tony knew he was babbling as he made his way over to the sofa. He could not seem to get his mouth to shut off, but he did manage to take a seat.

"Incentive?" Loki uncorked the small glass bottle, lip darting out to wet his bottom lip. He tilted the vial once, allowing a small amount of fluid onto the tip of his index finger. He then rubbed it between his thumb and fingertip. He looked into the man's eyes and tilted his head coyly before sucking his thumb into his mouth, slowly withdrawing it. "What do you want it to taste like?"

“Tiramisu: coffee, cream, and amaretto. Heavenly combination.” Tony replied, his eyes glued to Loki’s mouth. If his breathing sped up a bit this time it had nothing to do with the poison killing him.

Loki laughed earnestly. "You are in luck, Stark. I actually know of that dessert and its rich flavor."

He gently blew on the tip of his finger before whispering an incantation in an archaic language. Then he brought it to Stark's lips. "Taste for yourself."

Tony truly wondered if he’d been ensorcelled at that point. Loki’s low voice with its hint of power pinged off every one of Tony’s nerve endings. There was no way he’d be able to resist nor did he want to. The billionaire leaned forward and parted his lips, pulling Loki’s finger into his mouth and lightly sucking on the extended digit. The bittersweet flavors of coffee, liquor, and chocolate on Loki exploded on his tongue. He could not help the small groan that escaped as Loki intently watched his actions.

"Enough," Thor shouted, actually startling Loki out of his bliss. "Give the man the tonic. Need I remind you, Loki, he is dying. This is no time for one of your games."

Startled, Tony released Loki’s finger and pulled away. “Cockblocker,” Tony muttered towards Thor.

This time, though, Tony managed to open his hand. Palm extended, he raised the reactor out to Loki. “Here, take it. I trust you, Loki. I know you won’t abuse this power.” Tony was running out of time, and he depended on Loki to help him. “How about we trade, huh? That bottle for this reactor.”

Tony tried to keep his outstretched hand from shaking as he waited.

Loki held out the tonic first, eyes never straying to the reactor.

Tony grasped the small vial and smiled. “Really, its okay. Take the arc reactor.”

Loki reached for it, hesitated once, then plucked the device from Tony's open palm.

Tony’s hand closed on the potion and he raised it to his mouth. He nodded at Loki and swallowed the contents. The Tiramisu flavor was more pronounced with the slightly foreign tang.

After a few moments, warmth suffused his body and a kind of lassitude spread through his limbs. Tony laid his head back against the sofa and sighed. Soon, the cold that had plagued him since getting poisoned began to lessen. The billionaire rolled his head to the side to look at Loki.

“Whoa, this is like some of the best shit I’ve ever had, and believe me when I say that I’ve smoked some primo stuff.” Tony reached out and grabbed Loki by the collar and hauled him in close.

“You’re pretty,” he said as his glazed eyes lingered on Loki’s face.

Loki grinned broadly before covering Tony's mouth with his own for a quick but deep kiss. He pulled away with a sour look on his face. "By the Nines, that tonic is disgusting."

Thor frowned and plucked the empty vial from Stark's fingers. He lifted it to sniff and quickly recoiled. "He said it was pleasant."

"If you find the pungent taste of minerals and bitter herbs to your liking," Loki said, eyeing the reactor in his hand. "It was an enchantment, Thor. Stark tasted what he wanted to taste." 

Loki shrugged when his brother gave him a disappointed look. "It did the trick."

"Trick being the key word here, brother." 

Tony attempted to climb into Loki’s lap. Pot always did make him horny, and this was like a hundred times better. In the back of his mind somewhere, Tony knew they needed to get on with it, but he wanted to languish in this euphoria for a bit longer.

Thor reached down and slid his hands underneath Stark's arms. He lifted the man right off his brother's lap with no effort. It wasn't until Loki hooked a finger through a belt loop on Stark's jeans that things became awkward.

"Mine."

"You can learn how to use the reactor or you can have sex with a dead man," Thor offered. "It is your choice."

Loki actually seemed to ponder the option. “He is so compliant right now.”

"Think of Frigga," Thor reminded sternly.

Loki released his hold. "You ruin everything."

“Way to kill a buzz, Thor.” Tony pouted when he was deposited on the other end of the couch.

“Sir, Thor Odinson is correct. Your vitals are becoming dangerously unstable.” Jarvis chimed in. “This rather hair-brained scheme needs to proceed with all due haste.”

“Yes, yes, okay. Do what you need to Loki. I’ll just be here, right here enjoying my brief introduction to the magical equivalent to a Maui wowie.” Tony was proud he only slurred a little bit.

Loki stood, eyeing the reactor from all angles. "Do you remember our duels, Thor?"

"We will not spar in this library or in this Tower, brother. This is not the time for playful sport."

Loki’s raised eyebrow was a mischievous invitation. The air crackled, and two Loki's shimmered to life beside him. Then two more. They all grinned, the original regarding Stark with hungry eyes. "Oh, I've forgotten how much fun this can be."

Thor waved his hand through an illusion as if he was swatting a fly. It dissipated upon contact. "You haven't the control or sustainability yet, brother. These have no form. I can see right through them."

“Pity. I always did like a good orgy,” Tony said with a grin.

Loki caught his eye. "Hold onto that thought, Stark. I have plans for you when you are well."

“Another time.”

“Yes, yes,” Loki agreed. He seemed to instantly shut all else out of his mind and began to learn the reactor’s energy.

Thor wandered the room, observing as Loki created fire, rainclouds, illusions, and a rather imposing rendition of Fenrir. The wolf sat on its haunches near the door, flickering in and out focus while Loki attempted to concentrate on two things at once.

Tony watched Loki’s antics with total fascination. To think he was able to take the arc energy and convert it to something so fantastic was mind boggling. So the billionaire slumped back on the couch and drifted, letting the deep timbre of Loki’s voice soothe him.

"Would you please leave," Loki finally asked Thor.

"No. And what is this?" Thor asked, lifting a mortar with a dark red viscid substance in the bottom.

The illusions fell and Loki looked at Thor dubiously. "It is for the binding spell."

Thor shifted, frowning at him. He lifted the mortar and sniffed it. "What are you planning, Loki?"

"I am planning to save his life," Loki snarled. 

"With your blood?"

"Thor, he is mortal," Loki tried to explain. "There is no greater bond that I can offer him. Even you cannot refute the profound power that comes from a blood bond."

Thor looked at Stark and then at the blackened mixture of minerals, herbs, Loki’s blood, and Odin knew what else. To stop this now would mean certain death for Stark. "These instruments of your magic, Loki, you did not use them before when you bound us in battle. You would not even blood bind yourself to me so freely. So, why this man? Why are you so eager?"

"And again I tell you, he is weak and fragile. I have opened his mind with the tonic and will simplify the process with my blood. I see no reason for your lack of faith in me or my intentions."

"Simple would be performing the spell with words, Loki. Blood takes this to another level, one I am not sure Stark wants to be a part of."

"He is obviously in no pain and is quite content with the plan."

"Stark," Thor said, striding over to where the man lay sprawled on the furniture. "You are paler than before. How do you feel?"

Tony looked up and up and up at Thor. Damn, he was massive. So he didn’t get a crick in his neck, Tony managed to sit. “Never better.”

But his words were refuted by an ominous tickle that built in the back of his throat, then a harsh burning in his chest. Tony took one strangled breath, leaned forward, and began to cough. Spasms wracked his lungs, causing tears to gather in his eyes from the strain.

The spasm seemed as if it would never end. Tony could not breathe, and his mouth filled with a vile, thick liquid. The billionaire fell to his knees and started to retch. Alarmed, he spat a mouthful of red-tinged black slime onto the Persian rug. Hugging his aching chest, Tony managed to straighten up. He shakily wiped his hand across his stained lips.

“Fuck, this can’t be good.” Tony rasped as he collapsed back against a warm, solid body.

Loki lifted Stark into his arms, cradling him there before transferring him to Thor. "Take him to Banner. I'll bring what I need and we'll perform the spell in the medical ward."

"What the hell is going on in here," Bruce asked, entering the library after Jarvis' plea to intervene. He saw Tony limp and sweaty being passed between the Asgardians. On the floor, it looked like someone had spilled a well of ink. "Did that come out of him?"

"We are out of time," Loki stated, gathering items from the table and collecting the mortar Thor had questioned. "If you, your Captain, or your Agent interfere now, you will be going against Stark's express wishes for me to save his life. His death will be on your hands."

"Don't put this on us," Bruce said, checking Tony's pulse at his wrist as he walked beside Thor. "I’m on board for this ride. You’re going to have to get us to the other side."

“Banner, where is your Captain?” Thor asked. “I would like him present for this."

"Why," Loki asked, pulling a face.

Thor stopped and turned to face him. "Because what you are doing is important. I want him to see that you do have honor, Loki. You can be selfless and noble, a true Aesir."

Loki blinked twice. "Are you unwell?"

"Shut up, Loki," Thor growled before continuing towards the medical bay. “You will do this good deed and you will accept credit for it.”

Loki sighed heavily but followed. “You place such burdens on me.”

The angry static electricity sparking in the hallways was from Thor, this time.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Two chapters for the price of one, meant to be read consecutively. Without further ado, we give you the Delta Team Mission to save The Winter Soldier. As always, thank you so much for the wonderful comments and kudos. They mean the world to us.

Once Hawkeye drove to the SHIELD base in Flushing, it didn’t take much time to get the rest of their gear which included Kevlar vests and various small concealable personal weapons. 

He chose a pair of H and K P30’s for himself. Natasha picked her favorite model Glocks. Steve even opted for firearms for this mission. He chose two Colt pistols that were the modern upgrade to his M1911 he’d used during the war. Steve’s shield in its black case was placed on the seat next to him, belted in like a favored child.

Clint’s beloved bow was stowed aboard the Quinjet with a full quiver, so was a case containing a Nemesis Arms Vanquish. You never knew when you’d need more firepower. That sniper rifle would facilitate their extraction if things went south. 

When their items were secured, Clint quickly went through the pre-flight checks. Soon they were wheels up and heading towards Chechnya. Any apprehension Clint felt when first sitting down in the pilot’s seat soon vanished. Natasha sat in the co-pilot’s seat with Coulson manning the com and reviewing the mission plan for any overlooked flaws with Steve seated in the back.

Phil came forward every so often to stand near Clint or to rest a hand on his shoulder, all under the guise of asking perfectly relevant questions or briefing them of changes. They all knew that the archer took reassurance from the contact. Who was Clint to argue if it seemed to happen more than was strictly necessary? Maybe Coulson needed the contact too.

Steve stared out the Quinjet’s window. Thoughts of the upcoming mission weighed heavily on his mind. His hand absently patted a pocket of his cargo pants and the contents therein. He also remembered a promise he’d made to Tony not long after Phil had awoken from his coma. The Captain unbuckled his seatbelt and got to his feet. He walked the few steps to the comm center. He unbuttoned the pocket flap and pulled out the small square package.

“Agent Coulson?” Steve rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Phil pulled off the earphones full of intelligence chatter. Things were rapidly changing and unpredictable. It made him nervous, but he'd pushed through worse and come out alive. He wasn't sure why he was second guessing himself - perhaps it was Loki and the near-death experience, perhaps a renewed respect and desire to actually live his life while serving others. Either way, Coulson was becoming more aware of his own anxiety than he'd ever admit out loud.

"What is it, Cap?"

“Tony and I, that is, we thought you might like these. I mean, with the mission and all, I wasn’t sure this was a good time, but maybe they’ll bring you some luck.” Steve held out the package wrapped in brown paper. “Tony said they were uncirculated proofs. He also said you’d know what that meant.”

Steve felt a little silly handing over a package of trading cards, featuring his likeness, but Phil had obviously cherished his collection, and these, Tony assured, him were much better. Eighteen cards in all, the complete set. One even had all the Howling Commandos pictured on it, including Bucky. Looking at them had been like a punch in the gut, but maybe they’d reassure Coulson that they were still fighting for the right reasons. 

“I signed them, too. I hope that was okay?”

Coulson stared. How does one accept a priceless gift from the man they’ve been idolizing the whole of their life? And it had been a long life, prolonged by a modification of the same serum in his hero's veins.

Rogers would probably never realize the impact he had on Phillip Coulson’s life. Captain America influenced him from adolescence to adulthood, personally and professionally, from innocent child to field agent in a worldwide covert protection agency.

The trading cards were a tangible connection to Captain America, through all the years Steve was frozen in time. They served as a kind of makeshift bible, a touchstone to guide Phil’s morals and to conjure his courage when needed. They helped him through burying both parents and other relatives, soldiers, and agents.

Those cards had been through almost all of Phil Coulson’s life. No person alive could say that much.

They weren’t the same ones Fury hopefully still held in his possession, but these were more unique. They were mint condition, a collector’s dream, and the set contained more merchandise than Coulson had ever owned. Stark – he’d outdone himself this time, as far a Coulson was concerned.

He fanned the slick cards out in his hand. He knew every face, every date of birth, all the facts and more about each of the Howling Commandos, including Bucky Barnes.

He held up his favorite Cap card with a broad smile. He felt like a child again.  
The SHIELD agent in him said this was the worst possible time to accept a rare gift that could get bloodied, soiled in entrails, burned down, blown up, or shot through. But at the moment, Phil didn’t care.

He stood up and held out his hand to Cap to shake it.

Steve took the agent’s hand, shaking it gladly, placing his other hand briefly on top of Phil’s before letting go.

“I don’t know what to say,” Coulson managed, though the big grin on his face hopefully conveyed his happiness, “except thank you.”

Really, there was a shit ton of fanboy-ish things threatening pour out of his mouth like a red, white, and blue rainbow. He knew that once he started, he wouldn’t shut up. And Barton was listening.

“I think he actually squeaked, Nat. Did you hear him?” Clint was looking back over his shoulder grinning at the incandescent joy on Coulson’s face.

“I’m not sure. It sounded more like a squeal to me. Better be careful, Captain. He might hug you,” Natasha called out. Even she could not keep her lips from quirking up just a bit.

Steve laughed a little. “I’m glad you like them. Tony said they belonged to Howard. He had a collection of memorabilia at the mansion. He asked if I wanted to see it, but I... I’m just not ready. I’m sure he’d show you though.”

Steve was babbling, but at least it seemed to break the tense nervousness that had been thick in the air. For that, he was grateful. Usually fan adoration bothered him a bit, but Agent Coulson was just so earnest about it. He’d taken his appreciation of everything Steve stood for and turned it into something good and productive.

"Howard Stark," Coulson said, still clutching his precious cards. "If you think I'm hopeless, Barton, you should've met him. I think half of his earnings went to the never-ending search and rescue op for Cap."

“I’m glad he never stopped looking,” Steve said with a slight shudder. The thought of being entombed in that ice forever still gave him nightmares.

"There are those of us who would never stop, Cap." Phil felt the awkward fanboy trying to spill out, so he returned to his comm seat, barely resisting the urge to prop up a Cap card next to the notepad bolted to the small desk. He carefully returned each card to the simple paper bag and left them beside the second set of earphones, not yet ready to stow them away yet. When they got closer to Chechnya, he'd slip his favorite one in a pocket for that good luck Rogers spoke about.

After getting notice over the outside communication wires, he switched to in-flight connection. "Bad weather up ahead. You should see the lightning north of us, Barton. You can reroute us but we need the most direct path possible."

“Making the necessary course corrections now. I think I can get above it. And holy shit, but this thing handles like a dream. Care to buy me one for my birthday, sir?" he joked. "I’d ask Stark but I’m afraid he’d demand a blowjob in return.”

Coulson glared. Stark isn't getting his penis anywhere near your mouth, he thought. Instead, he said, "Keep your eyes on the sky, pilot."

“You got it, sir. Eyes on the sky." Clint confidently maneuvered the Quinjet to their new heading and kept a sharp eye on the gauges. "ETA to destination: Three hours. Tinkle now if you have to before we ascend the storm, and you might want to stow those tray tables, put your seats in their upright position, and buckle up while I get above this mess.”

Phil felt nauseated already. He figured it had more to do with anxiety over the mission than the flight. He hoped it was nothing physiological. He'd only been out of a prolonged comatose state for five days and some hours. Probably wasn't the best idea to go rushing off to retrieve the Winter Soldier, but one glance at Captain America looking back at him from the glossy trading card, and Phil knew he'd done the right thing by heading straight to James Barnes' rescue. He turned his head toward Natasha. The next six hours would foretell their future. Everyone in this jet had something riding on this mission and they were all hoping for the very best.

~*~

Their arrival was unnoticed and uneventful. Wheels down on top of the building next to Kraznyi compound. The wind and rain buffeted the side of the fuselage and rocked the aircraft as if they were at sea. But by the grace of Barton's piloting skills, they landed on top of the building without crashing.

It did little to calm Coulson's nerves.

They were all in mission gear now, including the Quinjet with its diamond stealth technology, armed with enough weaponry to bring down a small fortress, which was the objective.

"This weather has halted Kraznyi's progress in loading the stasis chamber into the truck," Coulson pointed out to Natasha. "It will give you more time to rouse the street gangs, but will they strike on our command in this rain?"

He removed a small duffle bag from a compartment stowed in the hull.

"We were authorized to give them cash in return for their assistance. I think this should be enough to persuade them," he said, unzipping the pouch to reveal a generous amount of bundled rubles. "Now, tell me what you need."

“I still have a few contacts in this area. I have one in mind, a mid-level member of one of the local gangs. They’ve gathered a group that is quite put out that Kraznyi has upset the native hierarchy. He will set up a meet. I can offer the bribe for them to cause a little mayhem. I’m pretty certain they will be more than happy to remove Kraznyi's men with extreme prejudice. Give me two hours.” Natasha went to a locker and grabbed a dark coat. She pulled it on and belted it tightly. She then tucked her hair under the hood and checked her weapons.

"Do you want back up?" Coulson asked, knowing she wouldn't. Bringing one of them along would only slow her down and make it more difficult for her to do her job. Still, sending her out alone, in this particular case, was risky. He wasn't completely confident this mission didn't entirely freak her out. If Natasha couldn't control her emotions during this op, extracting Barnes would prove difficult.

There was a contingency to simply take the entire chamber with Barnes slumbering inside, but that would be one hell of a plan to execute, including landing the Quinjet inside of the compound and lugging the containment tube into the jet's bay. All while dodging bullets, grenades, RPGs, et cetera.

No, Coulson preferred his chosen method. Get in, wake Barnes, get him out of the chamber, tranq him, and then have Cap lug him back to the jet for egress.

“I’m better off on my own. I can do this.” Nat replied a little more aggressively than she meant.

Clint walked up and framed Natasha’s face with his hands. He looked right at her and could see the apprehension in her eyes.

“Yes. You can do this. I know it and Coulson knows it. Just be careful out there, okay? Call us if you need anything. We’re here for you too.” Clint briefly rested his forehead against hers. “Now be safe. Let us know when everything is in place and the rest should be easy.”

Steve walked up and placed a hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “We’ll get him back. I have faith in you too.”

Natasha frowned. When had she become so dependant on the feelings of others? Emotions were a weakness she didn't used to think she could afford. But since joining SHIELD, Natasha learned that someone had her back and that it was ok to lean on them occasionally for support.

“I’m ready. I’ll signal you when I’m on my way back, although I think you’ll be able to tell once the locals get involved.” Natasha stepped away. Nodded at the three of them and headed for the exit ramp. “Any last orders, sir?”

"If we're made while you're out, proceed to the coordinates you've memorized and wait there for us to assemble." Coulson was surprised to see so much affection from Barton and Cap, but perhaps post-invasion, this was the new norm. They’d been through a lot while he was sleeping.

For once, he felt like an outsider in the middle of his team. He had a days worth of things he'd like to say to Natasha, but with one last study of her appearance of control, all he said was, "Stay in radio contact at all times. Now go. We're eager for your return."

With one last look at the Clint, Steve, and Coulson, Natasha disappeared out the hatch into the wind and rain-lashed darkness.

Clint stood there staring at the closed hatch. He knew she could take care of herself, confidant of that fact, but shit happened, and it did not stop the frisson of apprehension that crawled up his spine.

To cover his unease, Clint took out his bow case and lifted Artemis from her padded niche. He examined every inch of her sleek lines and sturdy limbs. Finding her in perfect working condition, he turned to his quiver, making sure the mechanism to change arrowheads worked smoothly and that he had plenty of the types needed for this mission. 

The archer did glance at Coulson from time to time. The senior agent kept his eyes glued to the monitors for any hint of movement or danger. As much as the rain was cloaking them, it was also making it hard to keep an eye on the compound. 

Steve also double-checked his equipment, made sure he was ready to go at a moments notice. Every so often, the soldier would linger at the hatch looking out at the sheeting rain, wondering how Natasha was doing. It was not the fact that she was a woman that he worried about. It was that she was a member of the team. He wanted to be out there to watch her back. Steve knew also that it had to be doubly hard for Clint. She’d been his partner for years.

About an hour and a half into their surveillance, the rain started to taper off. With it went a lot of their cover and the possibility the targets would be on the move again. The diamond stealth should protect them from all eyes and most equipment, but he still feared exposure. He only hoped Natasha was able to make contact and inspire the insurgents to cause a big enough diversion. They could only wait for the Widow’s return to begin the extraction. Clint would provide his own diversion on the far end of the compound, and then Coulson and Natasha would help him free Bucky.

Coulson was aware of the nervous energy in the very small confines of the jet's hull. He spent the majority of his time listening in on Natasha's mission. Ninety percent of it was silence, the other ten was spoken in Russian. He'd been her handler enough to pick up on some words but he could gauge the tension by the cadence of her voice. The woman was a pro, no doubt. He had absolute faith in her agenda. He just hoped it matched his. He honestly didn't expect her to ditch them, since retrieving Barnes was a mutual goal, but a part of him had prepared for her going in alone to do it alone. She may be able to slip in easier, undetected with her smaller frame and ability to climb, swing, and move like an acrobat, but once inside, once faced with the chamber that contained her for so many years, he wasn't sure she could handle it alone.

Coulson was grateful when the deluge ceased. It was eerily quiet without the pounding rain but he trusted his eye sight more than sensors and radar. He switched from the headphones at the comm center to a bluetooth device in one ear for mobility. He stood and went to the cockpit window. It was there that he heard sounds of movement below. A bay door opened on the side of building D and Kraznyi soldiers began removing items again and placing them in the large moving truck backed up to the dock. From their angle above, Coulson could see enough to know that the clock was once again ticking.

"Romanoff should be wrapping this up soon. You boys ready?"

“You point, I shoot.” Clint replied as he slipped into his own coat and strapped his quiver securely to his back.

“Ready, sir. As soon as Agent Romanoff returns, we can move out,” Steve replied. It was hard for him to not pace the small confines of the jet.

Just when Clint was about to open the hatch himself and go find Natasha, the com signal came on. Natasha indicated everything had gone smoothly and she was heading back. They had a few minutes before the small riot brewing in front of the warehouse blossomed into a full-fledged assault. They opened the hatch and a very wet and slightly winded Black Widow entered the jet.

Natasha pushed back her hood and slicked her rain soaked hair into a messy ponytail. Clint wordlessly handed her a hair elastic he’d pulled from a side pocket of his quiver, something he must have done countless times in the past. 

"Thanks."

“Everything is set up. They’ve been itching to take Kraznyi down. The money was much appreciated as were the few grenades I appropriated for them. My contact will make sure we aren’t hit with friendly fire.”

“Excellent. I’d better get to my position,” Clint said eagerly. “Get ready for a rather spectacular diversion. Just give me the signal and I’ll light up the far building. That should split their forces between that and the riot Nat started. Any last commands, sir?”

Coulson opened a compartment and pulled out four specialized masks designed with Stark technology for SHIELD purposes. They had night vision, infrared, and panorama views along with navigation and advanced binocular technologies. He handed one to Romanoff and Rogers to wear over their balaclava masks before walking towards Clint. He handed the skeletonized mask to him with a slight quirk of his mouth. "I know you see better without this, but should you find you're in jeopardy of being exposed, you need to wear it to cover your face. SHIELD does not want exposure in this mission."

Natasha rolled her eyes but could see the necessity of them. She took one and stowed it on her belt until they left the jet.

“Cool! Just what I always wanted. Stark tech mashed against my face.” Clint grabbed his and hung it off his quiver. 

Steve reluctantly held out his hand, not being able to stop the minute shudder. The skull motif reminded him a bit too much of Johann Schmidt. He understood the need to keep their identities secret, just wasn’t crazy about Stark’s chosen image. It also meant Steve would have to leave his shield on the jet. Nothing screamed his identity more than Captain America’s shield.

“Bring it,” Coulson said, reading into Steve’s concern. “Even disguised in its cover, it will come in handy.” 

A muffled explosion boomed from outside

“That’s our cue. The front of the warehouse should be engaged with the insurgents,” Natasha remarked.

“Give me ninety seconds to get into position to cause that distraction and lay down some cover if you need it.” Clint hastily did one last check. He laid his hand along side Phil’s neck and looked him right in the eyes.

“Be careful out there,” he demanded, and then turned to the others, “all of you. Remember, I got your backs. Don’t make me come down there to rescue your sorry asses.”

Coulson felt like he was going to be sick. The nearly paralyzing fear that gripped him was so foreign that he wondered if the Tesseract was back inside him. His heart beat wildly in his chest and his ears began ringing. He didn't want Clint to leave his line of sight. He trusted the man, loved him certainly, and that made saying goodbye even harder. And here he'd been worried that Clint wouldn't be able to separate personal feelings from professional duty.

Barton was practically bouncing with eager anticipation of starting the mission but Coulson's feet felt like they were made of lead, his head thick with fog, and his heart screaming to abort the mission and take his beloved team to safe ground.

Clint noticed the moment Phil tensed up under his hand and looked back at his handler. Yup, Coulson was freaking out, something Clint had only seen a handful of times over the years. And something only he and Nat would be able to spot. Needing a little shock to snap Coulson back into action, Clint grabbed a double handful of jacket and pulled the agent to him. He plastered his lips to Phil’s and kissed him hard. He released his grip and stepped back. “Write me up for insubordination later, sir, but right now, I am outta here. This mother is going down.” 

Clint gave a single wave and left the jet at a steady jogging pace.

Phil licked his lips, wanting to savor the taste. He took a moment before facing Rogers and Romanoff. His head was starting to pound.

He could appreciate the fact that Hawkeye was back. That was the only part of this that felt right.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the Captain America trading card he had placed on the comm desk. He reached out to it, stared at the hero saluting him, and drew courage from the legend as he always had. Phil tried for a calming breath and tucked it in the pocket over his heart. He closed the pocket's flap and made sure the Velcro was tight before turning towards the open hatch.

"Let's move," he ordered, stepping out of the jet and onto the rooftop. "Masks down, minds sharp. Eight flights of stairs down and we'll regroup on the ground floor before exiting."

Natasha followed immediately, noting that Clint was already in position on the far end of the roof. His bow was out and he was surveying the grounds. She took a second to admire his stance before closely watching for any threats on their end.

Steve covered their backs, using his exceptional senses staying alert for any movement that could mean danger.

Coulson moved in silence down the short ladder to the top floor. They found the stairwell and made their way down, encountering only one of Kraznyi's men mid way. They squatted low and waited for the coming disruption instead of engaging.

"Light 'em up," Coulson quietly said to Barton over the open comms.

There was a near-deafening explosion, this one of Hawkeye's doing. All of the soldier's attention was given to the distraction outside of the barred window. He made an easy target to take down.

Coulson only paused to allow Natasha time to interpret the shouting going on over the radio before turning the unit off entirely.

"They are cautious," she said, interpreting for her team's benefit. "Soldiers will remain on the back side of building D. We’ll have to go through them."

At Romanoff's nod to proceed, Coulson led them silently to the first floor. He opened the door slightly and switched to infrared vision. When satisfied, he gave the hand signal for Romanoff and Rogers to fan out. They cleared the floor unnoticed and crept towards their exit point.

Gunfire rent the silence of the quiet neighborhood. Coulson's mind had long ago been desensitized to the screams of wounded men, but this time, it bothered him.

He switched to night vision, hand patting his weapons down one last time for reassurance. With his back to the wall below the window, he looked to his right. Romanoff and Rogers were ready. He kept the tranq in his right hand but pulled out his Glock with the left.

"Lights?"

When the street lamps were shot out by Barton a few seconds later, Coulson nodded. They proceeded to cross the dark street, using the cover of vehicles parked on the sides of the road. He felt more than heard the bullet that nearly grazed his head. In two shots, the Black Widow had taken out whoever was on the second floor, threatening to pick them off.

"Thanks," he managed before ducking out of cover, heading towards the fence line. He was grateful the intel was right about the shoddy perimeter. Cap easily pulled the bulk of the links out of the ground and tented it for Romanoff and himself to scurry under.

He heard the dogs before he saw them and reached in his pocket for the marble-sized flash-bangs reserved for such a situation. He heard the canines yelp, but the detonation was masked by the gunfire and explosions at the front of the compound. Still, the dogs were a threat. They may be temporarily blind and deaf but they could still bite and hold them at bay later. Coulson had never killed a dog and he didn’t want to start now. 

Romanoff was at the window already, cutting into the glass of the storage room. Cap fired off several rounds to Coulson's right and an arrow whizzed overhead and embedded into another soldier on a floor above them.

"You've been spotted," Barton called out. "Get inside."

Coulson looked up from his crouch at Natasha's work. He braced his forearm against her knee and fired beyond her at a soldier running up on them. "How long?"

Natasha had the window open in seconds. “Done.”

Steve took out any resistance they encountered. Despite his inner turmoil, he stayed alert and ready for any contingencies. He trusted Agent Coulson’s actions implicitly. He was glad that he had his shield at his back, particularly when a projectile pinged off its metal surface.

“Let’s move.” Coulson cleared the window easily, expecting resistance on the other side but finding none. "Clear," he said, and the Widow came through next. 

He made his way along the wall of the pantry towards the door while Cap climbed inside and pulled one of the shelves over to block the open window, preventing anyone from following them.

Coulson toed the slightly opened door and then immediately recoiled when the wood was splintered with by gunfire.

"Smoke grenade?" he asked, reaching his hand out towards Natasha, who was fishing for some in her pocket.

"Incoming!" Rogers yelled.

Phil had time to turn his head and see a flash-bang not of SHIELD design as it rolled into the storage room. Then Cap was on him, using himself as a shield to protect himself and Romanoff. The sound deafened Coulson as it detonated, just as designed, but his vision was preserved by the masks they wore and by Cap's body. Phil barely had time to orient himself before realizing they had company.

Rogers was already on his feet, dragging the lone soldier inside the room by the muzzle of the gun, disarming him, and knocking him out with it before Phil could even catch his breath.

Steve used a hand gesture to say "let's move" since none of them could hear each other for the moment over the ringing in their ears. Widow was first to get to her feet. Phil struggled, still out of breath, head pounding, but he followed Natasha out the door, Glock ready to fire.

They'd made it inside. Time for Romanoff to take over.

~*~ 

Clint chose his targets carefully. His bow felt like an extension of his arm, as he released arrow after arrow, each one finding its destination with the precision that earned him his name. 

He kept a sharp eye on the building that was their objective. So when a bright flash lit a window and the comm. crackled in his ear, Clint had a minute of breath-stopping panic. Then Coulson’s voice cut through the interference.

"We've lost your audio for now on our end," Coulson told Clint, conveying that none of them could really hear anything he might have to say. "Moving toward the stasis chamber now."

Clint breathed a huge sigh of relief. He’d only been half-joking when he teased them about coming down there and saving them. If he did, he’d leave their escape route in extreme jeopardy. So he held his ground and prayed that the mission continued to go smoothly. Clint had to trust that Natasha and Steve would keep Coulson safe.

~*~ 

Natasha pushed hard at Coulson's shoulder and they parted on each side of the hallway. He fit behind a steel column, Cap most likely didn't. Natasha easily climbed up onto some boxes and perched on a beam above. He waited, confident she'd take down the approaching targets.

Natasha’s stomach threatened to climb up into her throat. These were the men who’d put James back in the stasis chamber. They were selling him as a weapon, not as a man. They’d do the same to her if she fell into their hands.

Her eyes narrowed as a small group passed below her. The assassin silently dropped to the floor behind them. After a tap on his shoulder, she felt the sharp break of bone, as a particularly vicious hit to an assailant's nose sent shards into his brain. Another lay behind her with two broken knees. A swift kick to the head stifled his shouts. She took out her anger on these foolish men. Not again... never again. Lithe, graceful, and deadly, she made them all pay.

When the last man went down, Coulson moved from cover and followed the Black Widow through the open area of the warehouse. The generators or wiring had been compromised minutes ago, but even without their night vision, the explosions from outside lit up the interior. His hearing was also returning.

"How many grenades did you give them?" Coulson joked.

“Either Hawkeye is playing or the rebels found an ammo dump.” As far as Natasha was concerned, they could raze this place to the ground after they got safely away.

"Sir," Steve said, raising his chin in the direction of a dark hallway. "He's down there." This was it. Just one corridor separated him from seeing Bucky for the first time since he’d lost him to that snowy ravine.

Coulson followed his line of sight, agreeing. He made to move when three soldiers ran in, one yelling at the others and urgently ushering them down the hallway towards the chamber. When the last one was gone, Phil looked to Natasha.

"Something's wrong," she acknowledged. "They are afraid to go down there."

Coulson heard gunfire followed by screaming. Bullets rained down from ricochets, and they crouched behind storage crates to avoid being hit. When all fell silent again, Coulson stood, staring down the darkness of the hallway. Night vision revealed nothing.

"It's a kill box," he muttered about entering the confining hallway. They’d be like fish in a barrell. "Shoot anything that moves. Stay alive. I'll take point."

He moved quickly from their cover, switching from the tranq to a handgun, and hugging the wall. Cap mirrored him against the other wall, darkened shield up to protect himself and Natasha who followed behind him.

All the way down the corridor, Coulson checked the door handles, all of them locked. A shake of Natasha’s head confirmed they were finding the same on their side.

The team stepped forward simultaneously, methodically, silent and cautious, weapons raised and ready.

“In here,” Cap whispered over their comm devices. He’d finally found a door that gave way under his weight.

The senior agent crossed the passage and stepped into the room first. It was the back of the large warehouse. He recognized the specs from the intel Jasper had prepared for him.

With night vision, he could see that the ceiling was high. Lining the walls were storage crates, some were big enough for vehicles. They were all open with gaping black mouths that provided easy cover for enemies. Explosions outside threw eerie shadows on the walls. Gunfire had shattered many of the barred windows and continued to threaten.

Coulson’s skin seemed to crawl. 

“Fifteen meters to north,” he reminded, gun trained on the containers in front of them.

“See the pipes overhead? They’re the ones filled with coolant. Follow them and we’ll find the stasis chamber.”

He led them forward at a painfully slow crawl. It exposed them far more than he’d prefer, but his instinct begged for caution.

They finally neared a makeshift workshop area and fanned out around the electronic equipment. A generator blocked Coulson’s view but he didn’t need to see the chamber to know they’d found it.

As he stepped forward to meet Natasha at the containment unit, he paused, toeing something bulky and wet in his path. He rolled it over with his shoe. It was a severed arm. There was no gunpowder or residue on the sleeve to suggest a detonation of any kind. Coulson hadn’t heard any explosions actually inside the building. 

The arm had been ripped off.

He peered around the generator to find the rest of the body head first through the stasis chamber, half of its torso hanging out of the shattered glass tube.

“Shit. We have a very big problem.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Delta Team Mission – Part 2 enjoy!

There was no time to explain. Bullets rained down from the beams overhead. He felt the burn of bullets in his knee and thigh, heard rounds ricocheting off Cap’s shield. The left side of his head stung and became wet. 

Coulson ripped off his mask when the optics went black. He blinked, trying to focus in the dim lighting.

Strong hands were on him, dragging him farther out of the line of fire. He no sooner raised his weapon to return fire when their attacker threw his rifle and empty magazine like a spear at Roger’s shield. Cap deflected it, thankfully, or it would’ve gone through Coulson’s torso.

Their attacker jumped to the ground and leapt at Rogers like a snarling lion. 

It was the Winter Soldier, and obviously, he had no memory of their agreement to be rescued by the United States. 

Cap had no other option than to engage in the physical fight. They rolled a few feet together like rabid animals, snarling, biting, and clawing at each other. 

Coulson could barely follow their movements. The Winter Soldier was vicious and unyielding, swinging both arms at Cap’s head and body, landing far more punches than he should. Roger's ballistic skeleton mask had been cracked and discarded the first time Barnes’ organic metal fist connected with it, revealing thick blood dripping down Steve's chin and onto the ground.

It was like Coulson could feel every the punch to his soul.

Then things got worse. It was like Steve was stunned, paralyzed with the realization that this savage fighter really was the remnants of best friend, the friend who was currently swinging at his temple and connecting. Rogers had yet to fight back.

Coulson couldn't get a fix on Barnes to use the tranquilizers. He wished he'd brought a bigger weapon, like a net and fishing spear.

Steve went down hard, crashing through the wall of one of the large containers and out of sight.

Coulson felt Natasha uncoil from behind him and launch herself into the fray.

They had to end this. Time was ticking down. The local authorities were soon to become involved. 

Natasha gauged James’ movements carefully. Despite being extremely fast, he seemed disoriented, his moves not as accurate as they could be because of the recent stasis. 

She aimed a wickedly precise kick to the back of the Winter Soldier’s knee, hoping to bring him down. Steve was still struggling to get free of the remains of the large crate. He was bleeding from a long gash on his forehead, and his mouth was stained red.

She connected with a sharp crack and James went down. He rolled with the fall and swung his prosthetic arm. Natasha leapt over it and lashed out at James’ head. He ducked her foot and this time grabbed her ankle. She felt his fingers tighten through her boot and winced as bones began to shatter.

She heard gunfire. James took two bullets to his flesh arm. The surprise of the attack was enough to cause him to loosen his grip when he turned to look Coulson’s way.

She twisted her body and managed a hit to the Winter Soldier’s shoulder with her other foot. His hand opened and she scrambled away lithely rolling to her feet. They now faced off a few feet from each other, both pausing to assess their opponent. Natasha still wore her mask so there was no recognition in James’ eyes.

Steve quickly untangled himself from the wreckage of the crate. He took a deep breath and felt the burning pull of it all the way across his chest. That meant that more than a few of his ribs were cracked. 

The Winter Soldier’s attacks had been relentless, designed to maim, designed to kill. Steve felt every vicious blow in mind and spirit, not just his body. It killed him to see Bucky this way, fighting with an animal-like mentality. Steve had no clue of the damage that had been done to James in that chamber nor what the twisted fucks had doped him with.

He could not leave Natasha to fight alone. Coulson was injured and watching their backs but that would not hold off the remaining Kraznyi members for long. It caused actual physical pain for Steve to do this to his childhood friend and fellow soldier, but Bucky was playing for keeps in his confused state. Plus that metallic arm packed quite a punch. If Natasha got hit with that, the fight would be over quickly.

Steve rapidly closed the distance between them. With his fists joined, he hit Bucky square in the back, causing the soldier to stagger forward.

Natasha, ready for an opening, kicked James square in the jaw with a roundhouse kick. His head snapped back and blood welled from his split lip. She ducked under a wild swing from his arm and landed a solid hit to his abdomen.

As Steve went for his back again, Bucky turned suddenly, blocking his attack with his crossed arms. The dark soldier then kicked out to the side. Natasha tried to dodge but was not fast enough. She took a hit to her left hip that made her leg buckle.

Steve’s hands tightened on Bucky’s wrists trying to hold him still long enough for Coulson to get a shot off with the tranq gun. He noticed that Bucky was starting to breathe harder, as if the fight so soon after being in stasis was starting to take its toll. But he was far from through. Steve gritted his teeth and tried to twist Bucky’s arms down to his sides but the metallic limb would not budge.

Holding her fiercely aching side, Natasha swept out her leg catching both of James’ lower limbs, knocking him off balance. Barnes staggered forward, so Steve took the opportunity presented and used his body weight to carry them both to the floor.

The Captain had more body mass, but holding on to James was like trying to pin down a cobra. Steve literally saw stars as Bucky reared back and cracked Steve’s nose with the back of his head. More blood poured down his face, and he knew by the fierce ache that it was broken. But he didn’t let go.

Natasha also added her weight and pinned James’ legs to the warehouse floor, cursing when one of the soldier's booted feet caught her right knee. It was a glancing blow and caused no permanent damage, but damn, it hurt. She was only peripherally aware of her other injuries, of the throbbing ache in her shoulder and the slow, hot trickle of blood. Nothing was immediately life threatening. It would all be dealt with later, after the adrenaline wore off and left fatigue and pain in its wake.

Steve gritted his teeth and tried to hang on. “Bucky, please stop. We’re trying to help you.”

"Who the hell is Bucky?" the soldier growled before biting down hard on Cap's hand.

Steve ripped his hand away with a pained hiss.

“Coulson, now! He’s going to get free," Natasha called out as Steve struggled to keep Barnes on the floor.

Phil had righted himself and used machinery housing to steady his aim. Tracking the trio had been nearly impossible but they'd finally given him an opening. He took the shot with the special rounds made for serum recipients, firing three times. Two hit Barnes in his upper torso. He jerked his body to the side and twisted, head-butting Natasha. When he did so, the last round fired found Rogers and hit him in his shoulder.

"Fuck."

~*~

Clint could hear it all over the open comms. Every word. His hands tensed on his bow as he lined up and took out another of the crazy assholes that were trying to get into the warehouse. If that wasn’t bad enough, someone finally figured out where the projectiles were coming from. He wanted to be down there desperately but that was impossible. He was their only clear exit route.

Then Clint’s heart stopped. Phil’s comment about a big problem, then the sound of automatic gunfire, they were the hardest things he had to hear. The pained grunt from his handler somehow made things even worse, then the sounds of physical fighting. Still, Hawkeye never missed a shot. He was using his whole store of explosive and static charge arrows but it kept the riff raff away.

Then came Coulson’s spat out expletive. Phil rarely cussed during an op, only when things got dire. The urge to find them was almost too much to resist, but he’d promised. He was their back up… the one they were depending on to keep their retreat open.

Hawkeye released another arrow, taking out a cluster of men trying to rush the side door of the building he perched on. The arrow hit one guy in the eye, before splitting into five different projectiles and taking down his cohorts. Clint flinched when a shot rang out and scored the roof wall he was using as cover narrowly missing his head. A shard of brick lodged in his cheek causing it to sting and blood to run down his face.

Shit. It appeared they had their own sniper now. If Hawkeye could not locate him and take him out, he would be effectively pinned down.

“I got a problem up here. Sniper fire. Trying to locate target," Clint growled into the comm. "Hurry it up, guys. This ain’t no vacation.”

"Copy that," Coulson said, forcing himself to rise from his position behind the machinery. They had to move. He'd left Clint out in the open and exposed for too long. "Retreat to the jet, Hawkeye. Go now. That's an order."

“Trying, sir. I’m a little busy right now.” Clint ducked again as another bullet hit the wall next to his head.

Cap and Natasha were bloody. Barnes was covered in crimson, but Coulson wasn't sure how much of that belonged to the Winter Soldier and what belonged to the victims he'd beaten, shot, and mutilated thus far. He had to put him down, lethally if necessary. They had no more time. 

He put the last three tranquilizer cartridges in the magazine while Barnes got another bite in on Rogers. That freed up his metallic arm to swing again. If Stark were here, Coulson would demand he gain control of Barnes' prosthesis and beat the soldier over his own head with it.

Natasha lunged for James’ arms, trying to hold him to the floor, but his hands hooked into her Kevlar vest and slid downward.

Then Coulson heard Natasha's warning.

“He’s got my sidearm," Natasha screamed, wrestling with Barnes. "Steve, hold him!”

Natasha attempted to grab the Winter Soldier’s gun hand and dodge his other. She drew back sharply when he grabbed the edge of her mask and pulled on it. The material stretched a little and then it came off. Natasha’s long red hair fell into a messy tangle around her face.

Steve, feeling unsteady from the misfired tranq, lost his grip on Barnes. He tried to get him pinned again but couldn’t quite manage.

Then time seemed to slow down.

He saw Bucky raise the gun with his right hand and push the muzzle into Natasha’s temple, holding her in place with his prosthetic arm tangled in her hair. His finger tightened on the trigger.

“No, Bucky! Stop,” Steve yelled in horror.

“James, please!” Natasha pled. Her eyes were wide, staring right into his.

Coulson couldn't move fast enough. He raised his weapon to fire. 

Four consecutive shots rang out like a deafening death knell, but not from his weapon.

Coulson flinched violently with each round, waiting for Natasha’s body to fall limp and lifeless.

But she wasn't the one taking fire.

Bright red blood spread out like blooming flowers on Barnes' back. He dropped his weapon and loosened his grip on Natasha. He looked at his chest, fingers probing the exit wounds that would be there on any normal man. The Winter Soldier looked as stunned as Natasha did to still be alive.

A dark figure emerged from the shadows of the crates, holding an unusual rifle with a blue-white hue. He rested the barrel on his shoulder and strode forward confidently. "Got yourself a situation here, Cheese?"

Coulson swallowed hard, lowering his weapon, body sagging heavily on the equipment. "Jesus, Nick."

Fury looked at the glowing firearm in his hand, held it up for Coulson to see. "This is the “night-night sniper rifle,” a prototype stun weapon R&D is working currently on. Call it a present from Fitz/Simmons. They said it was ready for field testing. I figured I would bring in case the tranqs didn't quite live up to their potential." He looked down at The Winter Soldier and sighed heavily. "He's got a lot of fight in him for an old man."

"Hey, watch it. Most of my team resembles that remark," Coulson protested.

Steve scrambled forward to catch Bucky’s limp form when he fell backwards. The Captain’s eyes narrowed at Director Fury. “I thought you killed him.”

“He would’ve torn through both of you by now and moved on to Coulson. Be glad I brought a little mercy with me.” 

Steve briefly rested his forehead against the fallen soldier’s sweaty, tangled hair. “Why didn’t the tranqs work?”

“Who knows what he’s doped up on right now. Looked like pure adrenaline and the wrath of God.”

Coulson sighed heavily with relief at the unexpected backup. After sharing an unspoken thanks and understanding with Fury, and with great effort, he limped over to where Barnes lay in Cap's arms. The dark soldier looked defeated, bloody and dazed.

"No wonder the worst of the world covets him,” Fury said. “He's a killing machine. You sure you want to take responsibility for that?"

James' eyes were wide open, pupils almost blown, staring at the dark beams of the warehouse above them. He looked young, like a kid dying on the battlefield. He was seconds from going under. He spoke, but Coulson wasn't quite sure what he whispered. One look at the Widow confirmed it. Barnes had called out to her: "Natalia."

Phil turned his head and looked at Fury, quirked a brow in arrogance. "I am. He is already starting to remember. He is an asset, not a threat."

“No. He is a man, a Howling Commando, and he deserves to be treated with dignity,” Steve demanded. When James closed his eyes and finally gave in to the tranquilizers, he too sagged. No more fighting. The bleeding would stop and they could finally begin to heal. “We’re going to take you home now, Bucky." Steve’s voice was rough and choked with emotion. "Just like I promised.”

Fury pulled a face when a grenade exploded outside. "We got to move. I'm hitching a ride with you."

Natasha briefly rested her hand against James’ cheek. She was swamped with emotions that she could not afford to deal with right now, so she abruptly stood. The assassin limped a short distance away and turned her back. That way, no one would see the tears threatening to spill over. 

She ruthlessly dug the fingernails of her right hand into her palm, the pain there helping her to focus on their exit strategy. It helped her stuff everything back inside so she could complete the mission.

Natalia.

She wanted with an incredible longing to hold James in her arms and apologize for leaving him, for not loving him enough to share his fate.

Steve carefully stood up, wincing and staggering a bit as he gathered the Winter Soldier into his arms.

"You able to manage him, Cap? I don't think I've ever seen you this bloodied before," Fury acknowledged.

He knew Coulson was glaring at him for pointing out a weakness in Rogers, but it was true. The super soldier was human underneath all that bulging muscle, and humans can still break. He'd caught the tail end of the fight. It was brutal. Any normal human being would've been beaten beyond recognition. He wondered if Rogers and Romanoff even recognized that fact anymore or if they were so used to the serum in their bodies, allowing for extraordinary abilities.

“I’ve been better, sir.” Steve honestly replied, although it did not come close to encompassing the emotional upheaval he was feeling: equal parts fear, guilt and self loathing. He’d abandoned Bucky to this fate. He was so sure that his best friend died the day of that mission. He should have known. He should have felt something. Now he held someone barely recognizable, a twisted tool to be pointed at a target and expected to destroy. His one hope lay in the fact that Bucky recognized Natasha. Maybe, just maybe he would eventually remember Steve too. It was incredibly selfish of him to think this, but Steve had wanted it to be his name Bucky uttered before unconsciousness took him.

But they had other things to worry about, like making it to the Quinjet with their precious cargo.

Shouldering his burden gladly, Steve glanced at everyone. They were battered but mobile and that was all that mattered. “Natasha, could you?”

Steve gestured at his shield lying on the warehouse floor. The covering was torn, revealing bits of the red, white and blue design.

The Widow simply nodded, and with a grimace, bent to grab the Captain’s signature weapon. She also scooped up her gun and dropped it back into its thigh holster, its mate firmly in her other hand with a fresh clip.

Barely able to walk on her own, Natasha limped behind Steve. Fury took point, looping an arm around Coulson’s waist and taking some of his weight off his injuries.

Steve staggered a little and shifted Bucky’s limp form onto one shoulder with his arm wrapped around his thighs. He needed one arm free to help him navigate the debris strewn hallway. The soldier wiped away the blood that threatened to drip into his eyes. The cut there must be fairly deep to still be seeping. His ribs and broken nose made it hard to breathe, and he was pretty sure some of the larger splinters from the crate he’d been knocked into were stuck in various places, but he grit his teeth and willed his feet to move.

“Any fucking time now guys!" Clint’s voice broke over the comms. "It’s getting serious out here.”

Where the hell are you, asshole, Clint wondered about the sniper. He scanned the nearby rooftops. Another shot rang out, this time from behind him.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me? Two snipers?” Clint grumbled and glanced back at his quiver. One lone arrow stood out. Okay, he’d had enough. There was no way some backwater terrorist wanna-be sniper was going to take him down.

Taking a risk, Clint stood up. He quickly scanned the surrounding area.

“Got you!” Clint crowed, as he pulled his last arrow. Without even conscious thought, Clint took the shot, instantly calculating angle, drop, and wind speed.

The archer pulled back, fingertips brushing his cheek before releasing the string. The arrow flew true and unerringly towards his opponent on a distant roof top. The sniper fell back onto the tarred surface with the projectile buried in his throat.

Then, Clint smoothly pulled his H and K from its holster, turned, and nailed the other sniper that was taking a bead on him from across the alley. He too joined his compatriot and fell noiselessly backward, a neat hole punched in his forehead.

“Fuckers, trying to get the drop on me.” Clint shook his head as he sprinted to the jet. He boarded the plane and began prepping her for take off.

Hawkeye had to trust that Fury, yes Fury, would get them all safely to the extraction point. What was up with that anyway? Was the man a freaking ninja ghost, popping up like that? Truthfully, Clint was extremely grateful. Phil was injured, and he didn’t know how badly, and from the sounds of it, so were Steve and Natasha.

At least now, hovering above ground, Clint had the firepower to clear a path if need be. The weapons on the Quinjet would be a sufficient deterrent.

~*~ 

Coulson felt like he was going to drop. He was seeing stars dancing in his vision. He just had to make it out of the building, which is what Nick was saying quietly in support.

Seeing Clint alive and safe would make this entire mission worth it.

"Barton, warm up the cannon. Clear a spot for extraction," he ordered, still thinking of Clint's safety. He let Fury drag him along, was able to raise his weapon and fire on what remained of Kraznyi's men. "We're not going to be able to manage the stairs."

"Tell him to mow those fuckers down and land in the street," Nick ordered.

"You copy that?" Coulson asked, wondering if Barton was even aware that Fury had come in to aid them.

“Already on it, sir. In the pilot’s seat and prepped for flight. Follow the sound of Gatling gun fire. Clearing a path now to the south exit.” Clint breathed a sigh of relief. Coulson sounded bone tired and in pain but alive.

Clint lifted off and maneuvered the jet away from the building, hovering while he surveyed a clear enough place to set down. Spotting an opening, he toggled the guns and laid down a veritable hail of bullets. Any insurgents either scattered or were cut in half. He took out the fence for his team too, so they would not have to navigate that injured. He landed the jet with the hatch facing the door to the warehouse.

“You’re clear. Get your asses out here now,” Clint yelled into the comm. Bullets pinged against the canopy. He kind of had to admire the idiots that hung around to shoot at him. You just had to love the armor plating and reinforced polymer. More of Stark tech keeping them alive. If Tony knew, he’d be insufferable. Another strafe with the guns, and Clint had discouraged any more to challenge him or his team.

Coulson frowned when Fury propped him against the wall to the storage door. The man went in and came out fast. The outside wall blew up a few seconds later.

"After you," Fury said, motioning to Cap in a gentleman's gesture.

"Using them as human shields?"

"Damn right. They can take a bullet and heal a lot easier than we can."

"Barton's cleared the street," Coulson said in complete confidence. "This should be easy."

"That's what you said in Hanoi."

Coulson fired two rounds down the hallway before Fury dragged him through the smoke-filled storage room and out. Natasha followed, Cap's shield held high to protect their exit.

If Clint could have left the jet and dragged everyone inside to get them to hurry, he would have. The archer swore the wait was going to cause ulcers. Sure, they’d been on many missions before, and some had ended, well, badly, but this particular one was so important to Steve, Natasha, and to himself. Hawkeye felt he had something to prove. He knew Coulson did too. An asset was only as valuable as their skill set.

Clint laid down another volley from the guns and cursed. Soon they would draw the wrong kind of attention. They needed to be out of here right now.

"Lower the ramp," Coulson said wearily. "We won't make it inside otherwise."

Clint breathed a huge sigh of relief when he heard Coulson’s voice. He hit the control to open the hatch. It looked like they were going to make it. The archer turned around and watched as Steve carried the limp body of the Winter Soldier aboard the plane.

Steve was breathing heavily and his legs were shaking by the time he got James to a row of empty jump seats aboard the jet. Steve folded them all down one handed and laid James across. He belted the unconscious assassin in the best he could and then collapsed next to him. It would have to do. This jet was not equipped with a gurney to transport the incapacitated. Every ache and pain flared up, making him wince. He hadn’t felt this badly since a Chitauri energy weapon tried to blow a hole through his side. It was just a testament to how much his Bucky had changed in the intervening years. This man nearly killed him with bare hands.

Still, he felt an overwhelming need to protect the Winter Soldier, this person who had once been his shelter, who had always stood up for him and patched up his wounds, fed him and cared for him when no one else gave a damn about the skinny sick blond kid from Brooklyn.

Steve swiped away the blood that had slowed to a mere trickle out his nose and laid his head back against the plane seat. He wasn’t sure he could muster the energy to restrain James, should he wake up soon.

Odd that he was now thinking of Bucky as “James”. Steve’s best friend and the man who owned that nickname many years ago simply didn’t exist at the moment. He didn’t know if he ever would again.

Hawkeye watched anxiously as Fury boarded next, practically dragging Coulson along with him. Clint immediately took into account the blood sticking to Coulson’s temple and the wet crimson soaking Phil’s pant leg from thigh to mid calf. Despite that, the agent was also putting very little weight on the affected leg. Clint had seen Coulson hike for miles in rough terrain sporting a similar injury to the thigh so there had be more going on that a single gunshot wound. That coupled with the obvious head wound was worrying.

The archer wanted so badly to get up and knock Fury away from his handler so he could assess the damage himself. But that was the worst possible thing he could do, to show Fury and Coulson that he could not handle an extraction mission when Coulson was injured.

The Director got Phil seated and was rummaging through a nearby compartment for a med kit. As Clint watched, he pulled out a pressure bandage and slapped it to Phil’s thigh then another further down at his knee.

Finally, Natasha entered the aircraft. She also was limping heavily. Once aboard, she holstered her weapon and laid Cap’s shield aside before dropping heavily into the co-pilot’s seat. Nat’s hand was pressed firmly to her right shoulder. Clint stared at the bright red blood staining her fingers.

Hawkeye had no fucking clue that everyone was so badly injured.

“Jesus, Nat, you’re really bleeding.” Clint started to get up to treat her, but Natasha raised her hand to stop him.

“No. I’m ok. Just get us out of here. Please.”

Clint knew she was lying but could do nothing if Natasha would not let him. There wasn’t enough blood seeping out from under her hand to be immediately life threatening. But damn, he had to fight the urge to help his partner.

Natasha fumbled in a pocket for her cell and dialed a number she knew by heart. “Vitaly. Pull out now. We’re leaving.” She simply said and then tossed the phone aside. It was a burner and she would not need it again. Then she closed her eyes, steadfastly not looking at James who was strapped in some seats behind her.

They’d gotten him out. It was finished. Natasha had no clue where they went from here or how much of the James she knew was still intact. The Red Room had been brutal in its efficiency to mold its assets into unemotional killing machines. She just hoped that he’d been able to retain some small part of himself. His softly spoken pet name he had for her was not enough to give her hope, at least not yet. Would he have remembered her after he’d pulled the trigger? That thought was too much to bear.

"Set a course for Incirlik Air Base in Turkey," Fury commanded. He knelt beside Coulson, rummaging around in a med kit. Finally he gave up his search and stood. He opened a compartment nearby and took out some duct tape. "And blow the building, would you, Barton? I don't want that stasis chamber to house another soldier ever again."

This was one order Clint truly did not mind obeying. 

“It would be my pleasure, sir. This is for you, Nat.” Clint quietly said as he lifted off. She needed the closure this would provide. His partner deserved anything he could do to lessen her pain and more. He hovered a good distance away before deploying one of the small missiles. Natasha’s eyes were glued to the rather spectacular explosion that followed. “No more stasis chamber.”

“No more.”

He wanted to reach for her hand, to reassure himself her soul was still inside the shell of his best friend, but Clint needed to get them, now. Director Fury would take care of everyone at the moment. “Plotting course. Hang on. This might be a little bumpy.”

Clint ensured the jet’s stealth feature was still engaged as he gained altitude, hoping to avoid any military detection. 

"You are not going to use that on me," Coulson began, eyeing the duct tape in Fury's hand suspiciously.

"Oh, so you are still with me? Thought you might have passed out a few moments ago," Fury mocked. "Did you even hear the building go down?"

"Is that what that was?" Coulson mumbled, reaching for the med kit. "I thought it was my head exploding."

Fury frowned when Coulson's hand dug through the kit and came out with the self-injector of adrenaline and morphine. Fury lifted the only brow not hindered by the patch. "That bad?"

Coulson winced at the prick of the needle and only had to wait seconds before the injection went to work. "Fine now."

He opened his eyes and quickly surveyed Steve's injuries, listened to Natasha's silence, and then observed the way Clint handled the aircraft and artillery as they flew to safety.

"Delta Team, give me your statuses," Coulson demanded. His face pinched up when Fury actually used said duct tape on his knee and then around the pressure dressing on his thigh. He dodged Nick's hand when the man came at the wound on his temple.

"Stop being a baby."

"Stop touching me.”

“I could break you like a twig right now.” Nick stood and abandoned his duty with a deliberate sigh of frustration. “I don’t know why I bother.”

“Because we’re your favorite team.”

“Yeah, keep thinking that.” Fury removed the night-night gun from his thigh holster and used his other a hand to loop around a stabilizer. He'd stand guard through the flight. 

It took some of Coulson's anxiety away to know that Fury was watching Barnes. If the soldier woke up in an aircraft going Mach 1 over hostile territory, it would be disastrous for them all.

“Statuses,” Coulson again demanded. "Romanoff, were you hit? You were caught in the same initial volley of bullets I was. I didn't think you escaped unharmed."

Natasha actually startled at Coulson’s question. She was so far off her game it wasn’t even funny. Nat also knew it was useless to downplay her injuries. “Right shoulder, bullet still inside. One hit to right side near the hip, bruised badly but nothing major. Left ankle, probably bruised bone deep, don’t think it’s broken,” she stated flatly.

"Come back here, agent," Fury commanded. "I’ve got a lot of medical supplies I haven't tried out yet. Shame to waste them now that they're open."

"Cap?" Coulson asked, allowing Fury to manhandle him up and towards the cockpit. The synthetic adrenaline did wonders but it would wear off all too soon. He needed Fury to hear their conditions so when they reached the SHIELD facility in Incirlik, the Director could get them the medical attention they needed. "I need your status."

Natasha levered herself out of the seat so she could switch with Coulson. She slowly made her way around him in the confined space and dropped heavily into an unoccupied seat in the back.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll heal. I always do,” Steve mocked, uncharacteristically.

"We gotta pull some shards of wood out of you," Fury remarked. "You got anything else embedded in your body? And I don't think your nose is supposed to be sideways on your face, Rogers."

“I’m not important. Deal with everyone else first. James needs to be checked out too. He’s got four in his back, if you don’t remember.” Steve’s hand gripped the armrest so hard it creaked.

"Oh he'll be checked out, alright," Fury explained. "Checked out and on a constant sedative drip."

"Until we get him home," Coulson called out from the cockpit. "Then we're looking at long-term rehabilitation, on our terms." The last part he said loudly, for Fury's benefit.

He tried to turn his head to look at Steve, make eye contact, anything to bring even a small ounce of hope to the distressed soldier, but it hurt too much to fully turn, and he'd lost his vision in his left eye anyway. He let his head lay back against the headrest and inhaled deeply. When he breathed out, he mustered up his remaining strength and squirmed enough to turn his body towards Clint.

Looking at the man now, already piloting them high above the clouds and out of harm's way every second, Coulson knew without a doubt that he was deeply, completely in love. Barton had come through the mission with flying colors, saved their asses, and even saved himself when no one was there to back up Clint in his desperate time of need. And here he'd been concerned about the assassin.

"Hey," he said softly. "Status, Barton?"

Clint glanced back at Fury making sure the Director’s attention was focused elsewhere. He lightly placed his hand on the side of Phil’s neck for a moment, wishing he could feel the man’s skin through the thin leather of his archery glove.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that, sir? Seems you got the short end of the stick this time. I feel like some kind of wuss that I only got this little scratch on my cheek.” Clint tried to tease but was afraid his tone sounded a little desperate.

Coulson's eyes took in the thin bloody mark on Clint's cheek and the cement dust on his collar and knew he could've lost Barton. It would have been unbearable. He would've had to deal with it somehow, but he knew he’d never be the same. He was very glad he didn't have to figure that out.

"Bravo Zulu, Barton. Way better than me," he confessed, a small but humble smile curving his lips. "We wouldn't have made it had you not held your ground and kept our path open."

Clint felt his face heat as he flushed with pleasure at Phil’s assessment. That smile did things to Clint, made him want intimacy and affection so very badly. 

“I’m just the projectile expert. Point me in a direction and I shoot. You’re the reason everyone made it back, sir. Without you, they would have fallen apart. We all would have,” he managed to say.

Coulson was grateful he was slumped down in the copilot seat, headrest blocking Fury's view of the look of adoration on his face.

"Clint, I'm going to black out here. Don't let Fury call me a pussy," he begged with a light chuckle. "I'll be fine. Just need some rest. Probably shouldn't have done this mere days out of a coma, but we didn't have a choice. Again, don't be concerned. This is not like the Tesseract," he reassured. "And listen to me. Natasha is going to need you. Don't leave her alone. The way they fought," Phil said, closing his eyes. "It was brutal. Barnes had the muzzle of her own gun pressed against her head. If not for Fury, we would have lost her to the Winter Soldier. They were lovers, Clint. I can't imagine fighting like that with someone I…"

He left the rest unsaid. He couldn't imagine fighting Clint the way Nat had fought with James. Natasha didn't get her cold-hearted reputation for being soft. But inside the Black Widow, there was still a fragile human heart who had loved deeply, and that's all Coulson could think about at the moment. "Promise me you won't leave her in the med bay? Stay by her side so she doesn't wake up alone."

Clint noted the paleness of Coulson's skin and his stomach clenched, despite his handler’s words he’d be okay. But Coulson was right. At least for now, Natasha would need him the more. The thought of what she’d gone through and would still have to go through would be heart wrenching. 

Clint also knew what was in store for Barnes. He’d gone through the same distrust, the same repeated questioning, the same examinations after Loki tampered with his mind. That would be hard for Natasha to witness too.

The archer would have to try and be the strong one for his partner, just as she’d been there for him during those first few dark days.

“I promise, Phil. I won’t leave her alone. Now get some rest. We’ll be at our destination soon.” Clint wanted to say so much more but now wasn’t the place or time. His thumb gently stroked Phil’s jaw. Reluctantly, he finally pulled his hand away, caressing Coulson’s cheek one last time.

Hawkeye then turned back the controls with his attention was firmly on the skies, staying alert for any problems as he got them to a safe destination. Then, and only then, could he begin to relax.

Fury knelt on one knee again, gently probing Natasha's shoulder, assessing how much blood loss she'd sustained, how she wouldn't meet his gaze. He fished around for a military version of liquid bandage to stop the sluggish blood flow. He used an anesthetic spray first, allowing it time to work before finishing up with a clotting agent and a gauze pad taped on far more gently than what he'd done with Coulson.

One some level, Natasha did appreciate the care Fury was taking with her wounds. It frankly surprised her a little bit. She’d seen glimpses of the man behind SHIELD in the friendship he had with Coulson. But Natasha felt too brittle and wrung out, as if she could go to pieces at any moment.

"So, how much of this was Kraznyi's men and how much was Barnes?" Fury asked. He looked over his shoulder at Cap, who still sat on the floor, defeated, bloody, and silent. 

Fury raised his brow, gently turned Natasha's chin towards him. "Don't you tell me all of this was from him," he said, pointing an accusing finger at Barnes.

When she looked away, Fury stood. He parted his coat, and put his hands on his hips defiantly. “I don’t know what burns me most: That one man could do this much damage, or that because of your past, that you’d let him.”

Natasha could not bring herself to answer. She didn’t want to think about the fact that Barnes had done his best to kill her, to kill all of them.

"Coulson, you gonna answer me or not?"

Clint shook his head and tried not to grind his teeth. This was not going to end well.

“Sir, with all due respect, fuck off,” Clint answered. “I’m the only one here that is in any shape to give you a sit-rep from my perspective. All I can say is we got the job done. You wake Coulson up, and I won’t be responsible for my actions. The rest of the debrief will have to wait until later, or at least until we are at a safe location and everyone has been stitched up and is on the mend.”

Without hesitation, Fury pointed the advanced tranquilizer gun at Barnes discharged it once more time into the Winter Soldier's torso.

Natasha sprang to her feet, and without thinking, she snapped her foot out and knocked the gun from Fury’s grasp, ignoring the fresh blossom of pain in her shoulder and leg. The assassin placed herself between Barnes and the Director, her stance defiant and ready to attack again.

“Shit!” Clint growled as he set the autopilot and left his seat. The archer carefully approached. He was vaguely aware of Steve getting up as well. The look on Cap’s face was one Clint would not want to face in a dark alley.

Natasha spat out something in Russian that made Clint stop.

“Sir, we are all on edge. I suggest that you move away from Barnes. That was Natasha’s one warning. I’d really hate to spend the rest of our lives in a SHIELD brig if she tries to break your neck.”

Hawkeye really didn’t envision himself as the diplomatic one of the group but their handler was out for the count.

The archer slipped in front of Natasha, which left his back to her. But Clint trusted Nat implicitly not to attack him. Steve, even though bloodied and bruised, managed to stand straight and tall at Barnes' side.

Clint had to wonder just when Natasha and Steve had gotten so chummy.

"Natasha," Coulson said from the cockpit, eyes still closed in the copilot's seat. "He saved your life. Nick came here and helped us when it was desperately needed. You wouldn't be here in this jet if he hadn't brought that weapon to the game and used it to protect you. So stand down."

“Nat, please.” Clint turned to his partner. He could see she was at her limit and shaking.

After his initial reaction to Fury’s actions, Steve was able to see that Agent Coulson was right. It would do none of them any good if James were to wake up. As much as he was hurting, Natasha was so much closer to breaking and that made her extremely dangerous.

Carefully, Steve reached out a hand and laid it on her arm. He could feel her recoil slightly and the tenseness in her muscles had to be aggravating her wound.

“Natasha, Agent Coulson is right. You need to back away. James is alright. He’ll get the help he needs. Starting a fight here isn’t doing anyone any good. Please sit down and rest. You’re bleeding again.”

Natasha didn’t take her eyes off Clint’s face. She managed one deep breath. Then at Clint’s slight and hopeful smile, she inhaled again. The assassin seemed to curl into herself as she slumped forward, Barton's arms wrapping around her to return Nat to her seat.

Clint sighed in relief when Natasha finally succumbed to her injuries and grief. She trusted him to take care of her. The archer crouched down next to his partner and checked her wound. Some blood had seeped through the bandage but it seemed to be under control. Clint looked back at Steve who was standing nearby.

“Thanks, Cap. For helping and being there for her. Not many would.”

After a few tense minutes, Clint was able to talk Natasha into taking a painkiller with the assurance that he would be right there next to her the whole time. He was relieved to see the pre-loaded syringe of morphine in the well-stocked med kit. Soon, Nat was as relaxed as possible and staring blearily out the jet window.

Steve nodded at Clint and then slowly lowered himself back into a seat nearest James. He would keep watch over his friend until they landed. Only then would he allow himself to be treated, knowing that the delay would work against his accelerated healing. But he really didn't care at the moment.

“Director, can you get the jet to its location or do you need a refresher course," Clint asked. Inappropriate attempt at humor, but shit, the tension was so thick in the jet you could cut it with a dull knife. "Do you even have a valid pilot’s license, sir?”

"Fuck you," was Fury’s reply from the cockpit.

As far as he was concerned, the only one on this plane that had done their job well, devoid of emotion, and to the best of their ability was Hawkeye, and Nick currently wanted to punch the sass right out of the agent. 

Unfortunately, Phil was right. They really were his favorite squad. He wasn’t sure what that said about his emotional state or his life choices, but they were all alive. That was what mattered most.

"Don't look at me like that," Coulson said, eyes still closed.

"Yeah, you and I are gonna have a long chat tomorrow about this mission and all the ways it went to hell and back.”

"Looking forward to it,” Phil said, sighing heavily. “Make sure to stop for fries and Frosties first."


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is at last, loyal readers: the climax of our FrostIron tension, and the last chapter of Phase One. **Phase Two is currently being written. We will most likely begin posting those chapters as we get it closer to it's entirety. Hope to see you there!**
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with us this past year. It was a journey with a lot of ups and quite a few downs. Here's to a happy and healthy New Year to you all.

"Here. Put him here,” Bruce said, leading Loki and Thor carrying Tony into the medical suite. He grabbed the stethoscope sitting on the bedside table and listened to Tony's lungs when Thor placed him on the hospital-style bed. When Tony struggled through another coughing fit, more sludge came out of the billionaire's mouth, to their disgust.

"Bobby," Banner called out. He removed the stethoscope from his ears and didn’t notice when it fell to the floor. "Bobby! Bring a rescue bronchodilator STAT."

Bruce removed the oxygen mask that hung on the wall beside the bed. He didn’t know if Tony’s lungs were filling with fluid, so oxygen simply wouldn’t make it inside, or if this was a temporary respiratory crisis. Either way, Tony wouldn’t survive state this for long.

"Whatever you're going to do, Loki, do it now.”

He heard an agreeable murmured response but got nothing more. He looked over his shoulder at the dark prince.

The sorcerer was crouched on the floor, holding the arc reactor in his hand and whispering to a circle of light. His words alone seemed to cause it to expand across the floor barely wide enough for two people to sit inside.

Bobby stopped short when he ran into the room and his shoes almost touched the circle of light. This was magic… He’d been told to expect “weird” when given his assignment at Stark Tower, but this was freaky on a whole other level.

"Gloves and masks,” Banner yelled out, as Bobby entered. “Use full respiratory precautions. Do not let his sputum touch you, do you understand? It is poisonous."

Bobby nodded and entered, tiptoeing around Loki’s supernatural playpen. He grabbed the protective gear and made his way over to Mr. Stark.

The man looked terrible. He helped Bruce try to get an oxygen mask on the man, but another coughing spasm had Tony bent in half, coughing black mucus out into a basin Bobby grabbed off the table.

“Loki, how long are you going to let Tony suffer like this?”

“I prefer he not suffer at all,” Loki stated, still focused on his task.

“Okay, well, need I remind you that we’re oxygen-based life forms? Tony’s not getting enough of it to his vital organs at the moment.”

He stood and glanced at his lover before continuing with his preparations. Loki’s words belied the anxiety that showed in his posture and in the tight lines of his face. "How unappealing. I enjoy him so much more when he’s warm with a little color."

Tony gripped Bobby’s arm hard enough to leave bruises. No air was currently getting in past the sludge that quickly filled his lungs. Things had gone from bad to I’m-fucking-dying alarmingly fast.

Finally, with one last heaving cough, Tony brought up several large globules and then collapsed back onto the bed. Finally, much-needed air filled his compromised lungs. “That was not fun.”

“Try to relax and breathe deeply.”

Tony nodded as Bruce arranged the mask over his face. He tried not to panic but the feeling he was drowning from the inside out was almost overwhelming. The heavy weight on his chest felt too much like those first days back in the cave with the Ten Rings.

"Thor, come here. Step inside." Loki split his attention between Stark’s form on the gurney and what needed to be done for the spell. "Sit down. He might not be able to stand."

Thor flounced to the floor Indian-style to take up the space Stark might fill. His fists were clenched tight as he observed those bustling around the room, asking Stark to try to breathe in various medicinal vapors and remedies. "With haste, brother."

"Shh." Loki guided a new line of magic outwards until they met together behind Thor, forming a glowing ring of runes and ancient script within a broader circle. Loki then stepped inside too, raised his hand, and pulled on the light. Like puppets on strings, the circle lifted and seemed to dance for him. Loki smiled and nodded in satisfaction. "Done. Now get out."

Thor stood, ignoring his brother's rudeness, as they had no time for petty arguments and Loki meant no harm. He was under tremendous pressure, and even Thor knew when to stand down. “What more do you need?"

"Here," Loki said, dumping a pouch of crystals into Thor's palm. "Crush these and blow the powder inside the perimeter where Stark will be."

Thor scowled, recognizing the various stones in his hand: rough diamonds to channel high magic such as Loki's, citrine to balance energies, moonstone to connect and share intuition, sapphire to create unity, and rose quartz for harmony during their binding.

He was content with all but the rose quartz and tourmaline, known for their strong ties to emotion. Loki had insisted Thor retrieve these along with the other stones from the suppliers in the city, but he felt uneasy regarding the purpose behind these two particular choices.

Still, there was no more time to question Loki. He had to trust in his brother's intentions.

In haste, Loki reached for the mortar and pestle he'd brought from the library and headed for Stark's bed. The arc reactor hummed with life in his other hand.

The man was pale and appeared frightened as he struggled to breathe and yet remain calm.

Loki had been confident up until that point, elated at the thought of performing magic again, feeling his vitality return as he drew from the reactor clutched in his hand. But when he looked at Stark and saw that the Midgardian was literally dying before his eyes, his blood ran cold. It was as if a shadow had crept in the room and stolen all the warmth from him. Loki could almost hear it whispering of his failed attempts in the past to prevent death through his magic.

"Everyone. Leave us now," he harshly demanded. The staff paused in their tasks, eyes reticently darting between Loki and Banner.

Bruce didn't flinch, just continued to hold the nebulizer mask near Tony's face to try to reduce his lung constriction. Finally, he looked around, feeling the weight of staring eyes on him. He sighed heavily.

"Go ahead. Go," he told the medical staff. It didn't surprise him that Bobby didn’t leave with the others. "I'm not leaving either," Bruce said to Loki, eyes fixed on Tony.

"Nor I," Thor added.

"Then move away and do not interrupt," Loki insisted. Their gazes locked until Banner finally backed away, relinquishing Tony’s care with expectation.

Loki gracefully climbed onto the bed and straddled Stark’s thighs, setting the porcelain mortar on the table beside the bed. With a wave of his hand, he removed the man’s black stained and contaminated shirt. It left the man exposed to the eyes in the room.

"Stark. Look at me."

Despite Tony’s fear, he was unable to deny Loki anything at this point. He met the trickster’s eyes. His shaking hand came up and grasped Loki’s wrist.

“Tell me again that this will help,” Tony pleaded, not used to begging for reassurance. He couldn’t even hide the tremble in his voice. “I need reassurance that this is going to absolutely work.”

“Quiet your thoughts. This is just a temporary state. I gave you my word, and as an Aesir, I cannot and will not go back on my vow.” Loki raised his chin defiantly, thinking of Frigga and Thor and a lineage that was too complicated and mysterious to ever make sense to call himself such. But he’d been raised as an Aesir, behaved as one for hundreds of years, and so he was.

He took a deep breath and then released it before placing his palm over Stark’s heart, avoiding the reactor’s casing in the man's chest.

“This should feel familiar and far more pleasant than what you’re going through.” Loki siphoned what was now like-to-like energy from one reactor, through himself, converting to restorative powers, and then channeled it into the Midgardian.

“Do not fight me, Stark. This will allow you to move from the bed to the altar where the real fun will begin.”

“Altar?” Bruce repeated. He watched the transfer of energies between Loki’s reactor and Tony’s, where it spread out across the engineer’s chest, down his arms, and up his neck like lightning. “Does that hurt?”

“Not so much now with my own reactor,” Loki said, wincing slightly as he continued to control the flow of power. His eyes sought Stark’s. “Better?”

Tony felt that familiar tingling warmth flow languidly through his muscles. He let out a groan of pure relief. He cautiously drew in a breath. Thankfully, it didn’t feel as if he’d swallowed broken glass as it had before. The tightness was still there, and it continued to be difficult to get enough air into his lungs, but Tony got a little boost of much needed comfort and lifeforce.

“So much better. In fact, I think I can walk myself to the proposed altar, just like a groom. You’re the wife, right?” he teased.

"Be quiet. Relax a little longer," Loki prompted, his eyes settling on Stark's face like a caress.

“This altar thing though? You aren’t planning some kind of virgin sacrifice are you? Cause you know, you are decades too late for that. You’d have to get Steve to sit in for me.”

"You and me both," Loki chuckled. "And no, your captain is not meant for the ritual I've prepared. It has your name on it with mine. None can enter it now, save for us."

Bruce rolled his eyes at the virgin comments. "Where is Rogers? I haven't seen Coulson or his assassins all day."

Thor looked up at the ceiling where the voice would normally have spoken by now.

“Jarvis,” Tony prompted. “Where did our good Captain and the terrible trio abscond off to?”

Tony waited expectantly and was more than surprised when there was a definite hesitation.

“Is that a direct question, sir?” Jarvis replied.

Tony’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. “Does it have to be?”

“In this instance, yes.”

“Okay, J. Spill. Don’t make daddy use the naughty corner.” Tony was equally exasperated and alarmed by Jarvis’ attitude.

"Sir, Agent Coulson and his team are currently out of the country. I honestly do not know their exact location at the moment."

"Dreams really do come true," Loki murmured. He shifted in Tony's lap, raised his eyebrows when he noted a similar and slightly awkward reaction in Stark’s trousers

"Can you manage now?" Loki asked, not wishing to embarrass either of them in front of Thor, Banner, or the nurse.

Tony frowned and tried not to react to Loki’s presence and the effect the magic had on him. Not that his exhibitionist tendencies cared one way or the other. But he didn’t want to make Bruce uncomfortable, shock the kid, or annoy Thor. Although Tony would so like to call Loki’s bluff.

Time was not on their side, and Tony knew this latest magic transfusion was only a temporary fix. They needed to move onto the main event. That became obvious when he felt a chill go up his spine and the tremor start to return to his limbs.

“Yeah, I’m good to go. Let’s get this over with.” Tony pushed himself up further until he was practically nose to nose with the Asgardian.

“Thanks.” Tony whispered, his mouth a hair's breadth from Loki’s.

Loki pressed his mouth to Tony’s briefly, before grinning. "You are welcome, but you're not ready yet." Loki gently pushed him back onto the mattress and reached for the mortar. He stirred the viscous fluid with the pestle and then removed it, laying it on the table.

"What is that," Bruce asked, arms crossed, leaning against the far wall.

"I believe this is akin to what you know as henna," Loki explained. He dipped two fingers into the thick sap-like fluid and then held it up. "It is a kind of stain, a dye but of arcane sources, which I will use to mark him."

Thor sighed heavily and walked to stand beside the bed, quirked an eyebrow at Loki's dissatisfaction. "I wish to watch."

"Why?"

"Why not," Thor challenged. "You have nothing to hide and I have much to learn."

Loki scowled at him. "Not a word."

Thor gestured to continue but did not impede his brother’s ceremony.

Loki took deep, cleansing breath and exhaled, closing his eyes and focusing on inner thoughts. He'd memorized each phrase, knew the spell's direction, how to guide it, channel it, form it to his will. He knew the expected outcome and how to finish the charm's good deeds.

The variable was Tony Stark. The bonus would be the additional insurance he intended on adding in the form of a telepathic link, should he need it.

It was risky but worth it.

"One last warning. Do not interrupt me," he stated to Thor and Banner.

It was impossible for Tony not to tense up, to be a bit concerned about the proceedings. Magic was such an alien concept, and to be the canvas for Loki’s spell? That was unnerving on a whole other level, especially with Thor hovering, or was it looming? Because it was intimidating as hell.

"Try to empty your mind, Stark. Concentrate on me," he began, opening his eyes and staring at Tony. Then he lifted his fingers. The dye rose up to meet his fingertips, trailed behind his hand like ink waiting to be utilized at his will. Loki began near the man's collarbone, sweeping his fingers downward to the opposite hip. He knew the sensation would be confusing, as if being sliced open and healed at the same time.

He met Loki’s eyes and then nodded to proceed. With an unsettling grin, Loki settled in to do his work.

When the second mark crossed over Stark's chest, the trickster began to speak the incantation that would claim Tony Stark as his own.

He sharply gasped as the first marks were laid upon his bare skin. It was painful yet not, sharp but soothing at the same time. Heat and cold streaked through the lines, making Tony want to squirm with the sensation. But he was drawn into Loki’s intense gaze as their eyes locked. They seemed to glow with a deep verdant incandescence, pulling Tony in so deeply he could not even think to look away. Loki’s deep, concordant voice thrummed with power as it resonated straight to Tony’s core.

Loki enjoyed this spell. The words flowed like a poem, melodic and pleasing. The movement of his hand accentuated the significance of the phrases, punctuated the meaning of the words. He became engrossed in his creation, this composition of intention and enchantment. Soon, he was able to add subtle nuances to adjust the spell to his needs: an eternity circle there, an open-ended proclamation here. Loki, himself, was being hypnotized by magic's illustration, and he thought of Frigga and her tutelage when he was a child.

And all the while, the arc reactors echoed the power flowing between them, through the stain created and through nature mixed with Loki's blood. It wasn't until his fingertips caressed Stark's neck and he could feel the pulse pounding there that he remembered he not only had an audience, he had a time-sensitive purpose to this portion of the spell.

Loki sat back, regarded his work the way a painter would pause. Stark was beautiful like this. Loki would not tell him so, wouldn't dare, but he was already spellbound to this man, incantation or not.

"Now, hold still. Do not move. Understand? I must transfer this to myself as well," Loki commanded. With magic, he removed his jacket and shirt. He regarded Thor for the first time since beginning the process. With reluctance, he handed over the arc reactor. Loki then turned back to Stark, placing his palms flat against the man's chest, staying clear of the reactor's casing. "This will hurt for just a moment."

Loki closed his eyes and softly chanted the same phrase over and over. He selected only the parts of the design he wished for Stark to be able to access when it was applied to Loki. The symbols began to glow under his palm in an iridescent green and gold. When Loki was satisfied with the runes and symbols he'd allow Stark to exploit, he used his other hand to duplicate and then lift them from the man's skin.

With a single command and a burst of light, they transferred onto Loki's chest in whole. It was painful to accept the entire charm at once, but the discomfort was momentary. He paused to catch his breath before reaching for the arc reactor Thor held and reclaiming it.

Tony avidly took in every word and gesture with a thirst for knowledge that was intrinsic to his very being, even though he understood little of what was being done to him. Loki didn’t lie when he said the transference of the runes so carefully etched upon his body would hurt. It was like acid being poured onto his exposed skin. But the pain was fleeting and apparently not one-sided. It looked like the ritual was just as trying for the Loki, as Tony noted his pained hiss and sharp intake of breath. What he was attempting was beautiful in its complexity, this casting of magic for Tony’s benefit.

Loki shifted and climbed off the bed, stepping back to allow Stark to do the same. He held out his hand towards the glowing circle on the floor at the end of the bed. "Shall we then? You will be no more ready for binding than you are now."

Loki stepped backwards until he was in the middle of the circle. "Step across if you dare," he challenged playfully.

Thor paced beside Loki, eyeing the symbols his brother chose for himself. He knew not how to read them, only that binding was usually a symmetrical burden. Stark was getting far less of Loki than his brother was taking from the Midgardian. There was little equality here. This was concerning, to halt the process now would mean Stark's doom. But when this was over...

Tony carefully sat up and waited a moment as the now familiar vertigo resurfaced. He found his bearings quickly and got off the bed, ignoring the twinges as his body still fought the toxin. The symptoms he was feeling might also be attributed to the potion Loki had him drink earlier that still left him slightly high. He raised one quirked brow at Loki’s good natured taunt.

“I’m not one to refuse a dare. I know, not too wise on my part, but I’m kinda determined to see this through. So yeah, I dare. Bring it on, darling.”

Tony confidently entered the circle. He felt something akin to a slight static shock when he crossed the threshold, and as soon as his feet cleared the circle, the air changed. A waist-high wall of an iridescent borealis danced around them, a thrumming light of blue, green, gold and red.

“So, how do you want me?” Tony asked. He tentatively reached out and touched the lights with his fingertips. It flowed and twined its tendrils around his hand like a living thing, warm and pulsing, almost like a heartbeat.

Bobby stared at the proceedings with a kind of wary wonder. He’d backed away to a fairly safe distance, which happened to be near Dr. Banner. That was laughable, really. That was perhaps the most unsafe place he could have chosen if said doctor became annoyed. But magic was something not many mundane got to experience or even witness. It was as thrilling as it was terrifying, and a story that he would, no doubt, tell his grandchildren. Then came the shedding of the clothing, the glowy lights, and the chanting. Bobby felt strangely voyeuristic, as if he was intruding on a very private moment. The charged air fairly radiated with energy and pheromones. Loki’s voice was somewhat hypnotic and commanding. His words to Stark and then Tony’s suggestive reply had Bobby a little nervous.

He turned to Bruce. “They’re not going to have sex, are they? This is not the way I wanted to get introduced to gay porn. I always kind of figured it would be just me and my laptop you know?”

Bruce shut his eyes tight and reached out for something, anything. Brain bleach would be nice. "Don't encourage… just… just no."

He tented his hands in prayer over his mouth for a moment then pushed his glasses up his nose. "No. They are not going to have sex. Isn't that right," he questioned louder.

Loki grinned at Banner’s unease.

“What did he say?” Tony asked with a deep frown?

“Ignore them.” Loki could barely hear Banner through the thrum of magic surrounding himself and Stark. “We are truly isolated. Not even Thor can pass the barrier now, if he tried. It will contain us and the spell until I completed this task and I break the circle from within.”

“Cool,” Tony said, his voice cracking with anxiety. “Save my life first, sex after?”

“As you wish.”

Loki’s plans and scheming were coming together better than he'd hoped. He already held a power source to heal and restore his life force, which he'd share with Stark and only Stark. He would cast this spell and then simply break the bond when he deemed necessary. By then, Loki would have enough of his magic to take the man off world if he chose to do so. They could run the Nines together, far removed as possible from Fury, from Odin, and hopefully even from Thanos.

“Let us complete our binding.” With a sweep of his hand, the crushed stones and crystals rose to gently swirl around them like drifting snow. He reached for Stark then, pulling his body close and pressing them together. "This is far different than when I performed this with Thor. No blood, sweat, and entrails at our feet. And I didn't find him nearly as attractive as I do you."

“I should hope not. Unless there is something you want to tell me about you and Thor and an incestuous past."

"You have a twisted mind. And it wouldn’t be incest."

"Details,” Tony joked, nervously. “I gotta say, I’m not objecting to this part of it at all. Being this close kind of cuts down on the anxiety.” Tony wrapped his arms around Loki’s lean waist, his fingertips resting just above the waistband of his trousers.

“Trust me, Stark.” Loki pressed his mouth to Tony’s lips, his body responding to the energy of magic pulsing around them and through them. It echoed in the marks on Loki's body and made him shudder. His sense of arousal went far beyond physical. It was soul deep. This was his craft, his passion, and although Stark was not the source of it, the Midgardian reflected each sensation back and intensified the experience. If only the man weren't currently dying…

He pulled away enough to grasp Tony's forearm with his free hand, waited for the man to mirror his action.

"It is going to be hard to breathe," he instructed. "Just stay with me."

“I will,” Tony replied, swallowing hard. “Finish it.”

Thor studied them with keen eyes. He shook his head, doubting Loki’s true intentions.

"Stand back," he said to Banner and the nurse, ushering them towards the doorway. "If you are too close, it will steal your breath away too."

“No problem.” Bobby allowed himself to be guided towards the exit, the bulk of Thor’s body shielding him from any stray bits of magic.

Loki closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Stark’s. He began to chant the binding spell, his words spoken hanging in the air, replaying under his current utterances until it created the sound of many voices.

The symbols he'd drawn on their bodies began to move, pulling away from their skin as Loki spoke the runes names and commanded them to action. They twined around their adjoined arms, forming a chain of magic that wound loosely around their wrists and hands and spun in constant motion.

But then the reactor in Loki's other hand flickered. He stuttered in his cadence when he felt the fluctuation and then hissed in pain when the device shocked him.

It took great effort to control the spell that was now reacting to his every word, to his rhythm, to his command. Now, it had now faltered. The glowing rope-like belt around their wrists tightened painfully, and he winced.

For a moment, he wondered if Stark had betrayed him, somehow told his artificial assistant to kill the power of the reactor he freely gave to Loki. He knew that wasn't probable, as it would only result in Stark's death.

Loki tried pulling power from his reactor again. This time, it flowed through him with liquid ease. He should've taken more time to practice its use, but he hadn't been given the luxury. Nothing this past week and a half had been easy or simple. He thought he'd cheated the effects of the poison himself, but now he began to second guess its lasting effects and if it had been too soon to expect such intricacies from himself.

The alarming feeling of losing control prompted his haste. Uttering the final enchantment, Loki gathered Stark to him, knowing this would drop them to their knees.

The powdered crystals in the air began to merge with the spell's chain as if they could not escape the consumption of Loki's magic. He could feel them work on Stark's mind, opening his thoughts to him as intended.

It was time to layer the spell and hide his deception within it.

He no sooner spoke the disguised spell when both reactors flickered irregularly. The air around them turned brittle and cold and a chill ran down Loki's spine.

Fearing the worst, he redirected the magic he'd built up within him, rushing towards the capstone of the primary spell.

The chain of runes and magic tightened like a noose around their linked arms until it passed through their skin as a golden light, snaking quickly up towards their hearts. It spread through their bodies from there like blood in a violent sunburst, stealing their breath and binding their life forces together.

It was done.

Loki found himself on his knees, feeling far weaker than when he began. It confirmed that they were bound, and he was experiencing Stark's debility, just as Stark would feel stronger from the strength he'd pooled in himself.

It would take time to even them out, build them both up, but that should be far easier now that they were unified and had reactors to supplement Loki's restoration.

Oddly, along with his pounding heart and weakened body, anxiety settled in Loki’s chest.

He realized could sense an intruding sentiment, one that did not belong to him.

He knew something had gone terribly wrong. He backpedaled away from Stark, who was still on hands and knees. Loki collided with the circling barrier of magic he'd erected. He clawed at it absently with both hands, unable to tear his eyes away from the man who was now sharing far more than Loki had ever intended.

The secondary spell had gone awry, and they were now sharing emotions, where Loki meant only to pry into Stark.

This was catastrophic.

Loki could hear Thor's voice nearby, Mjolnir likely making the repetitive thudding noise in his ears. Finally, he remembered that he had to break the barrier; no one else could do so. With a sharp wave of his hand, the light and magic of the circle dissipated like sparks caught in a breeze.

He fell backwards into Thor. He could feel his brother's arms around him but all he heard was the pounding of his fearful heart.

Bobby slowly uncoiled from his position on the floor. He’d been watching the proceedings with interest from behind Thor’s broad back, when unexpectedly, the thunder god bit out some foreign-sounding words that seemed an awful lot like curses.

It was at that point Bobby flung himself down and covered his head with his arms. Thor’s big hammer had come crashing through the ceiling, showering them with insulation and plaster dust. The huge god then advanced on the barrier, hitting it with a few mighty blows. The magic aura rippled under the effect but did not buckle.

When barrier finally dropped, Thor was at his brother’s side instantly. Bobby wondered if Mr. Stark would need similar aid, and started to go to his side, but that Dr. Banner beat him to it.

Tony, still disoriented and confused, sat back on the floor, knees bent, with his head in his hands. He was overwhelmed. The residual magic sparked through him with tiny aftershocks.

He had trouble thinking and could not put a name to how he was feeling. It was all one jumbled mess. The dissolution of the spell had been abrupt and shocking. He was vaguely aware of hands on his shoulders. Through the buzzing in his head came words, asking him if he was alright.

Was he? Tony tried to take stock of his condition. He felt oddly energized. The pain he’d dealt with since being poisoned was, for now, a distant memory.

But he also felt angry and scared.

That couldn’t be right. If anything, Tony should be relieved, giddy even.

So what the hell?

"Tony, can you hear me?" Bruce called out again. The man was warm to the touch and his color was back. Tony looked healthy and alive. Gone were the dark circles under hollow eyes. Pale lips that whispered of death were now pink and healthy. "Just take it easy. Sit for a minute. I admit, that was impressive, even if I don't really know what went on but I can imagine it was a rough ride. How do you feel?"

“I’m not sure. I feel… strange." Tony looked up with dazed eyes to see Bruce squatting in front of him and Bobby standing nearby. "I don’t understand. I feel… strange.”

"Strange, as if you were just involved in a magic spell kind of strange," Bruce quizzed. He glanced at the seconds on his watch while fingers found Tony's pulse point at his wrist. "You look a whole lot better. I just need more to work with than ‘strange’ so we can treat that."

Tony looked for Loki and found saw him in his brother’s arms. He was staring at Tony, accusingly.

He then felt fear unfurl in his gut.

“What happened?” was all Tony could think to say. The possibilities of a spell gone wrong were too awful to contemplate. “What did you do?”

Loki took a breath to speak but words failed him. Fear and confusion trespassed into his soul. These were not his emotions. They distinctly did not belong to him, though fear suddenly seemed to become a shared sentiment.

Loki used Thor to get to his feet and stumbled out of the doorway into the hall. He needed to put distance between himself and Stark.

Thor caught up to him and pushed him against the wall.

"What has happened, Loki? I knew you were up to something when the runes did not match. It has come back to bite you, has it not?"

Loki struggled fiercely against Thor's grasp but he couldn't catch his breath. His mind was racing through phrases, words, procedures, desperately trying to deduce where he'd gone wrong, how he'd confused empathy with telepathy.

The door had been opened on both sides. He should have had access to Stark. He had never designed the spell to share himself too.

It could've been the fluctuation in arc reactors at the wrong moment, boosting or depleting his power source that caused subtle nuances that went wrong. Perhaps he'd lost his skill during his time with the Other and Thanos, or maybe he uttered the wrong terminology?

Stark was to be the one exposed to Loki's awareness, not the other way around. It certainly was not to be a shared condition. He would grant no one, not even Frigga, familiarity of his emotional state. It would rob Loki of his defense mechanism perfected over hundreds of years. He was the Trickster, the Deceiver, the Liesmith. This could undermine the very essence of who he is.

This exposure felt worse than death, worse than the physical rape of his person. And that had been terrible.

For a moment, Loki felt like he was falling again through the cosmos; helpless, damned, and lost.

"Get away from me," Loki snarled, pushing Thor's hands away.

“No, let us discuss this. We can fix whatever you have done,” Thor pleaded, hands held up in peace, as Loki backed away.

“You don’t understand. This cannot happen,” he shouted, looking towards the doorway where Stark remained. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t mean for this…”

Thor shook his head slowly, eyes full of compassion. “You never do, brother.”

The sheer weight of Thor’s sincerity was too much for Loki to bear. “Leave me alone!”

“Loki, no. Don’t run!”

The dark prince held the reactor in a crushing grip, closed his eyes, and vanished from the Tower in a swirl of blue and green.

 

~*~

 

Please follow the next part of our saga in Chaos Theory: Phase Two! http://archiveofourown.org/works/4554783

 


	42. This is now part of a series:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have continued Chaos Theory in Phase Two!

Please follow the next part of our saga in Chaos Theory: Phase Two! We hope to see you there. :)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/4554783


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